Rising Star
by polarocean
Summary: What if someone had come to the Colonies rescue during the Holocaust? What if the Cylon's lost? How would that story go? AU Multi-Crossover OC's
1. Chapter One: Inaguration of the End

**Chapter** **One**: Inauguration of the End

**Rating**: PG-13

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Feedback**: Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywriter by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

* * *

Hegemony (noun) - 1. _Leadership or predominant influence exercised by one nation over others, as in a confederation. 2. Name of an intergalactic republic primarily located in the Andromeda, Milky Way and Triangulum Galaxies, with 1,022,347 member nations. Capital: Tri Varn. Founded, 3110 C.E. Terran Calendar in Central City, Earth by the Solorian Federation of Sovereign Territories and Holy Kintari Commune._

**Linguistic Program Section H-Ht, excerpt from **_**Hegemony Dictionarium of Terms, Etymology, Usage and Translations**_**, circa 5491 C.E.**

* * *

**Time**:_ Month aof Ichor, Eighteenth Day, 3021 AF, Hegemony Calendar / February 20th, 6230 C.E. Earth Calendar._

**Location**: LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q-1b_, Loria Quadrant, Large Magellanic Cloud_

* * *

**Three Weeks Ago**

LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q-1b was a dying world.

It was enjoying the final days of grandeur as its sun slowly dwindled, as the great herd-beasts that once roamed her plains withered, as its blue skies turned scorched white and its teeming oceans vanishing. Now only endless deserts and parched grass covered her surface.

A few generations ago the Department of Survey, Terraforming and Colonization could have seen her as a prime candidate for development. Three gas giants to capture or deflect any hazardous cometary debris, a tight asteroid belt for the harvest of heavy metals, a total lack of any major predators, fertile soil and endless beaches that would have enticed anyone to stay. Even the presence of a stellar cluster bordering one side of the system meant its isolated yet defendable nature could have upped its chances for settlement as a high strategic profile.

Now it was deemed scrap.

LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q-1b, like the other twelve major planets in the LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q solar system, may have lacked prime property for business but that same property could be easily cut up and sold off for the resources they contained.

Who'd care any way?

In three or five cycles LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q would go nova, taking everything in this dwindling system with it. But that didn't mean the trillions of tons of ore, natural gases and precious materials had to go to waste.

Once the Foundation for Interstellar Scientific Exploration had finished the final survey, the system had been put up auction in the Federal Senate on a full-scale strip-mining docket before the contract that had been quickly bided on and won by the Turian Hierarchy.

They had wasted little time on bureaucratic nonsense as the expiration date on their newest quarry ticked away and deployed an entire fleet of their top miners, geologists and porters to pull every usable ounce of rock out of LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q and ship it back to the Core Galaxies where dozens of shipyards, construction firms and engineering projects were salivating at their promised resources.

Until then all that was now under the preview of Foreman Admiral Galmahorn Mehtkuri, commanding officer of the _Ascension _and the LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q Strip-mining Operation.

"Where in a Geldar's hide is that progress report!" Mehtkuri's voice was as menacing as it was commanding barely bothering to look at his XO, Foreman Captain Garrus Vatarki, as he regard the insignificant and offensive little world his ship hovered over. "If we are going to finish operations on LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q-2e by next week Foreman Third Ibn can't be deviant in his transmissions."

"Foreman Third Ibn says his crews encountered a vein of copper during the excavation of the moon's core," Vatarki explained even as he handed over the report. "Reports he'll have the report in an hour with the updated resource count to compensate."

Mehtkuri growled under his breath, his small featureless black eyes narrowing in controlled fury.

"If he thinks that's going to please me," the Foreman Admiral grumbled, "tell him to contemplate otherwise. Inform Ibn all his reports are to be on time or he won't get his early completion compensation."

"Yes, sir!" Vatarki didn't need to be told twice and not wanting to have anything to do with the anger Mehtkuri was showing, he quickly scurried out of sight.

Foreman Admiral Galmahorn Mehtkuri, like more Turians, was an unwavering man, dedicated to the methodical accuracy of duty and never straying from it. At the young age of 15-cycles all Turians had to enter military service. For the next fifteen rotations the ideas of duty, honor and the needs of the Hierarchy were of utmost importance in their lives. It had helped to breed an almost genetic sense of loyal, yet compassionate dedication into the Turian people to the furthering of their species and its allies. Turians that thought of their needs first and others second were considered mentally damaged in their culture after all, though in his lifetime he had heard no such degenerates existing.

But Mehtkuri had taken that dedication to duty one step more, most likely this scrupulousness had allowed him to rise through the ranks so quickly and be given the prestigious command of the _Ascension_.

A standard _Thracia_-class planet cracker, the _Ascension _was one of the largest civilian mining ships supported in known space and only one of its class outside of the Core Galaxies. At 6-kilometers long she was a premier mining ship and only vessel of her size supported by the Hierarchy, who had wasted no expense, cut no corner, to put this behemoth into work. With her precision plasma-cravers, internal refinery facilities, self-sufficient nature and highly attuned metallurgical sensors, _Ascension_ could target and carve ore from a planet's surface down to its core while still maintaining a comfortable orbit several hundred thousand kilometers above. Once finished high-strength grappling hooks, semi-independent drones and a few hundred shuttles would draw her prize upward to the onboard smelter facilities where it could be torn apart, melted down, packaged up and shipped out.

"In the meantime, _Achiever_ reports another solar eruption is heading our way," Mehtkuri could help but glare at the far off sun, already flickering and wobbling as it entered it's final death throes, "Bring us into low-orbit and double the strength of our AG-field to keep out the hard stuff."

Garrus easily nodded and continued his rapid escape.

The _Ascension_ had little to worry about a solar eruption, she was armed with a very powerful anti-gravity, or as the kids today had nicknamed it an AG-field generator, which could easily negate the mass of any ship by shifting its gravity in one direction or another. At full power the ship's AG-field could make the _Ascension_ weigh less than an ounce, or strong enough to actually get a mid-sized asteroid to orbit around her without affecting the internal gravity and reducing them all to a fine pink dust on the deck-plating.

Like last month, when the _Ascension_ had been at _Lycnis Sato, _setting the record for the largest planet-crack, removing a chunk of nickel-iron alloy from the rogue planet's heart almost 1220-kilometers in diameter. The literal solid core of _Lycnis Sato_ had not been hauled by grappling hook to the nearby and drooling smelter workers on _Sinti_ but instead towed into orbit with nothing more then the _Ascension's _AG-field.

"How goes operations on LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q-1b?" Galmahorn asked, forcing bustling Garrus to stop in his tracks and go rigid along his thorax.

"Ground teams report all primary and secondary charges are set in the northern hemisphere," the younger Turian quickly summarized from this morning's report, "and we should be ready for planet crack in two days."

Sometimes even the powerful plasma-cravers needed help and for that the _Ascension_ had a cache of demolitionist teams trained for one thing and one thing only, to lay charges along the most active seismic fault lines to split the whole planetoid open, hence the name planet cracker.

"Good, good,' Mehtkuri explained to the relief of his second in command, "If all works out, we should-"

He never finished as one of the nearby communication techs yelled out.

"Sir, incoming message from the LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q-1b. Detonation team Oceda is reporting they found a structure in the northern mountain ranges of sector 3329!"

"What do you mean you found a structure?" the Foreman Admiral inquired as he look down into the communication pit that sat in the center of the observation deck. "Get me the commanding officer of Oceda team."

The young communication techs handed over an ear-pod to his superior officer who didn't have to wait long for a voice to fill his miniscule ears.

"_This is Yaran_," an unseen female's voice spoke clearly over the ear-pod, "_chief demolitions expert for Oceda team_."

"You have found some kind of natural formation on the surface of LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q-1b?" Mehtkuri asked.

"_No sir_," Yaran disagreed, "_analysis confirms the structure has refined metals present and we have detected a limited power source, possibly a small quantum reactor. We're continuing to investigate but there a large underground chamber has been found. The walls are covered in writings, possible some kind of cuneiform. We theorize that this is possibly a place of worship or a temple_."

The implication of a structure on the surface of LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q-1b was a startling revelation to the Admiral.

That was because this entire stellar cluster was supposed to be uninhabited. An entire miniature galaxy was supposed to be void of all intelligent life.

Since the first explorers had entered the Large Magellanic Cloud only less than a cycle ago they had not encountered anything remotely sentient. Habitable worlds naturally were once in a blue moon out here but even then a proto-culture, some kinds of ruins, an obscure primate that was learning not to thrown its feces at bystanders should have been found. For a galactic star cluster over several billion cycles old, there should have been at least something intelligent out here.

It did have its bonus, such as a wide swath of space filled with rich materials that no one was claiming, something the empire was greedily spreading their fingers into. But it was also disconcerting.

There should be someone out here... and maybe they had just found them yet.

"Scan and send the images up for analysis," he ordered, already heading towards the nearest computer uplink station that was open.

"_Understood, sir_," Yaran confirmed. "_Information will be up in the next twenty seconds_."

"Sir, do you really think it's of sentient design?" Garrus had to ask, a little bit of surprise and curiosity in his voice.

"We haven't found a single intelligent species since we entered this galactic cluster a cycle ago," Galmahorn answered, a bit hopeful himself. "Maybe we finally hit the mark."

"_Visual and metallurgical scans received_," the ship's computer confirmed verbally. "_Correlating information through all databases... symbols assert towards Human, extinct ancient language called Latin_."

Why the hell would Human writings be on a planet that until last year no one had known about? The hairless primates after all were a member of the Hegemony for the last three thousand cycles, and known very well in Turian society for their unkempt tongues and sometimes-brutal honesty. Though the Turians were a somewhat reserved member of the interstellar republic for only a fraction as long as humanity, someone would have noticed an outpost 195,000-light cycles from _Earth_.

But Humans were well-known to push the boundaries on all fronts, both those of unexplored space and the patience of this Foreman Admiral.

"Route a communication to _Earth_ and All Systems University," Mehtkuri curtly ordered, "read as '_we need a science team out here immediately'_. Copy our scans and attach the files to the communication."

"Communication routed, sir..."

* * *

**Two Weeks Ago**

He stared out the window, a thin barrier of protection of to the endless void hanging outside, just waiting for some crack in the defenses to greedily suck every ounce of oxygen out. The chance of potential death made it all the more thrilling, especially now as he watched his plan starting to take form.

Another group of _Basestars_ jumped into position, all tightly holding position around the precious _Resurrection Ship_ that lazily coasted along into its protective cocoon of security. Swarms of _Raiders_ flanked her, hundreds of the tiny moon-shaped fighters so numerous it almost blocked out the nebula that consumed the background behind them.

"Sir," his eyes turned to regard the willowy Eight that had inserted herself to occupy his side. "_Basestar Alpha 201_ has jumped in with its battle-group. They are requesting orders."

"So magnificent, isn't it?" the One gestured out to the gathering fleet, the newly arrived grouping of ships inserting themselves gracefully into the massive armada that surrounded them. "This is the largest gathering of Cylons since we left the Colonies."

"Yes, sir," she bobbed her head of obsidian hair at him. "Our _Basestar_ is still requesting directions."

"Always so meticulous," One couldn't help but shot a smirk at her, even if the mere glance of his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. "Just take a moment to wonder at the feats the Cylon race has achieved, what we are about to achieve."

"It only seems appropriate that we make our return with such an equal number," both individuals turn as an identical copy model One approached, their only noticeable difference was the slight change in clothing the two wore.

Even with the trained eye they were twins, same wrinkles, same eyes, same un-kept gray hair. They were brothers down to a tee, even if the new comer was wearing a black turtle neck while the one gazing out the window went more for a black button down.

"I was wondering when you were going to arrive, John?" One smiled at the approach of his homogenous twin, though the former only glared at him.

"You know how I dislike that name," John glowered right back.

"It was a gift from someone who cared deeply about you," he retorted, still managing to keep his smug disposition as the mere mention of that woman sent a rise of bile in his throat. "John Cavil just seems to have a ring to it, don't you think?"

"Sirs," both turned to the Eight who seemed to be growing increasingly uncomfortable with their exchange. "Our _Basestar_ is still waiting."

"Tell them to take their position along the south flank and wait for further instructions," John interceded his brother before he could answer. "This plan has been a long time coming, they just have to wait for their piece to fall into place."

"Of course," she turned on her heels and was gone down the corridor before either of them could insert any more quips, obviously their mere presence was enough to unnerve the woman.

"Are they prepared?" One asked the moment he was sure she was out of earshot and they were totally alone.

"See for yourself," Cavil gestured like a artist presented his finest selection of art and without hesitation One turned and strode through the door that opposed the window he had been standing at just previously.

Inside was a standard resurrection chamber, six tanks, though only five were currently occupied. Glowing white liquid bubbled and seethed against the forms that disturbed its surface, though since none of its occupants were moving the waves were small and unnoticeable.

""Dad," One cast a glance down into the nearest tank where a weathered old man lay, eyes closed and almost looking as if he was asleep. His eyes quickly glanced outward to the other four inhabitants of the tanks. "Mom... Dad... Mom... and Dad..."

"Our parents will be back with us soon," Cavil commented as he absently grazed his finger tips across the milky surface of the resurrection tank, the dark skinned woman inside made no move to stop him as his slime covered fingers ran down the length of her right cheek.

"Of course, skin and veins and bones, they won't survive the death of the Colonies," One tried and failed to hide the glee and enthusiasm that was starting to overpower his voice and make it quiver in anticipation. "Life among humans will have humbled them. When they resurrect, they'll return with apologies tumbling from their lips like jewels."

"Yes," John nearly giggled, whipping his fingers on the lapel of his jacket without a concern for the residue it left behind. "But be prepared for some very sticky hugs."

"You know," an idea struck One, the ends of his mouth starting to curl up a bit, "I've got a yearning to experience a nuclear holocaust in person."

"Perhaps with our dear mother here," Cavil nodded to an aged beauty in one of the far off tanks, her blonde hair matted and dark from the fluids of the tank. "Just slide in another tub and you can download side-by-side, after the bombs hit on _Picon_."

"Sounds like a plan to me," One was finding this minute change in plans to be all the more exhilarating to his ideals.

"Well, indulge yourself if you want," Cavil shrugged. "But I'll be on _Caprica_, making final arrangements with our contact. So if you're going to go, go soon..."

* * *

**Three Days Ago**

The air was dry, everything was dry.

Captain Donald Sutherland may have been a scientist but he preferred the cool and sterile environment of a laboratory or a command chair supporting him then this goddess-forsaken dust ball. He had no interest in LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q-1b or some wild goose chase on its surface.

But being a stipulation for the lifting of his probation he had to go where he was told. Captains could pick and choose their missions; science teams and crews as long as they followed the rulebook of the All System University Advisory Board.

He on the other hand saw the rulebook as an obstacle in his path of discovery.

Science had no bounds and a bunch of far off people more interested in keeping their grant funding shouldn't be holding him back.

But if he wanted to keep his Non-Hegemony Territorial Certification, Donald had to do what the University wanted.

Thankfully the inside of the structure the Turians had asked them to excavate was relatively sheltered, a cool cross breeze from the tunnels keeping the main chamber at an uncomfortable but bearable temperature.

"What I wouldn't give for winter right now," he mumbled to no one as he pushed the large metal blast door open and moved into the main underground dig site.

Dozens of crewmen, scientists and droids moved across the room, some debating amongst themselves, others working with fine tooth devices to reveal every detail, all trying to gleam the chamber's secrets.

"How goes the excavation?" Donald yelled as he approached his main team, all clustered around the chamber's central column where they had setup their command table.

"_Temporal and carbon dating confirm the structure is over four thousand cycles old_," Wo'wantinol, a stout Volus inside a black containment suit and only methane breather among his crew, quickly summarized in a monotone computerized voice that translated her incomprehensible language into understandable words. "_At that time this planet would have been very different, a lot more hospitable to you oxygen-breathers_."

"Translation?" he turned towards an almost gangly tall and deathly thin Vegan.

"Jitsu is completing the final syntax now," Li Clinom, their communication officer and anthropological linguist announced as he typed away on his holo-screen. "He's sending over the base translations."

"_Analysis complete_," the two-dimensional image of their ship's AI blinked onto the transparent blue screen as the new report began to scroll over his form, "_One match found in the Earth Cultural Database, 99.5% accuracy. Pre-unified Earth Latin_."

"So whoever built this temple spoke a language similar to Latin," Sutherland surmised, taking a glance around the towering underground dome and the extensive lines of archaic symbols that covered every surface.

"_Sir, you misunderstand. 99.5% doesn't mean it's related to Earth Latin_..." Jitsu corrected. "_It is Earth Latin_."

"Then how did someone write a language that's been dead on _Earth_ for 5,800-cycles," their weapons and security officer, Notp'mah contemplated out loud, "on a planet over 195,000-light cycles away, in a galactic satellite cluster. The Hegemony and the Yuuzhan Vong are the only two powers with intergalactic jump travel but that is several thousand cycles before the Hegemony existed..."

"I can tell you at that time Earth only had FTL-capabilities for 200-cycles," Donald added his two-cents, "but nowhere near enough to jump between galaxies. And I doubt the Yuuzhan Vong would want to sully their tongues with _Earth_-speak."

"We've only been in the Large Magellanic Cloud for the last cycle," Li said, his long neck wobbling back and forth, "a century if you want to count when the first exploration ships arrived."

"_No records exist to indicate anyone knew of this planet before that timeframe_," Jitsu added. "_Search engines deployed in the Interstellar Wikipedia Database and Earth Global Library show no references to LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q-1b prior to its auction for strip mining_."

"What about the power source the Turians discovered?" Donald continued towards his Chief Engineer Louise Stefánsson.

Along with a team of mechanics, Stefánsson had uncovered on of the chamber's power conduits, a long tuber like protrusion under the floor that looked more akin to a tree root then a power relay. Though the main reactor was deep underneath the temple and would require intensive excavation to reach, several of its cables snaked closer to the surface allowing for his scientists to reach them.

"We've tapped into one of the reactor's processors," he reported to the other officers, "and its appears to be a rudimentary quantum reactor with a crystal circuitry intermixed."

"_Quantum reactors have been outlawed for almost fifteen hundred cycles by almost every known race according to the Treaty of Neu Berlin of 1,631 A.F._," Wo'wantinol explained.

The Hegemony had been quick to abandon the dangerous technology barely a millennium and a half after its initial foundation. It had been one of the largest and costly overhauls for a civilization to undertake but in the end it had revolutionized the empires power and fuel production economy with a new clean burning, renewable resource.

"They created spatial tears when they exploded," Louise added. "After a reactor on _Neu Berlin's_ moon melted down, it vaporized the entire planetoid and rendered the local solar system uninhabitable for the next two-million cycles. Because of that the Hegemony phased out quantum reactors for the current thermionic power systems. In the meantime, Jitsu and I traced the conduits back to the control computer… all records are now being downloaded."

"I want continued updates but let's call it a night for now," Donald suggested, weary from a long day in the hot sun that was just starting to dip towards the horizon. "All teams report back to base and we'll pick it back up in the morning."

The others agreed, though a few less heartily then he wanted. As any true scientist when they saw a mystery, they wanted to solve it.

Night was falling however and since his crew included no nocturnal members, Sutherland was not about to let his officers go wandering through the tunnels in the dark. Anyone with enough sense knew that the time that things tend to go wrong in the most horrible sense was usually happened at night.

Better to retreat back to the safety of the nearby valley where a warm and amply armed starship sat ready for the night.

Away from the dry air and close to a refreshing cold shower...

* * *

**14-hours Ago**

They strolled down the length of the Riverwalk, the cool cobblestone felt good as it forced them to walk an uneven path through the open-air bazaar. Along the sides of the walkway that bisected Caprica City, merchants and shopkeepers tried to hawk their goods, from everything from fresh fruit to finely woven clothes barely days off the spinning looms.

"It may interest you to know," a man commented to a stunningly beautiful woman beside him as they left the loud and crowded market area and strolled off into one of the waterside parks that the Riverwalk snaked through, "That the final results of the CNP Project are working close to 95% efficiency throughout the Fleet. Hold your applause, please."

""No applause for me?" she faked a look of hurt, stuffing her neck down into the depths of her purple coat and tightening the grip of her hand around his waist. "I doubt you would've ever completed the project without me, Gaius."

"Yes," he conceded, though his ego surged quickly to re-orient his apology. "Well... you helped a bit."

"I rewrote half your algorithms," she tried not to sound too skeptical at his claims, more trying to humor him.

"All right, you were extremely helpful," the mere fact that Gaius had admitted her true contribution sent a gleeful smile onto her lips, "but let's not forget, you got something out of it. All that poking around inside the defense mainframe. It should give you a huge advantage bidding for the contract next year."

"You know that's not really why I did it," she grinned, running the length of her long fingers down to the base of the man's spine.

"No," Gaius laughed from the bottom of his pompous stomach. "You did it 'cause you _love_ me."

The way he said it, with so much contempt and lack of esteem made her insides clench. Though he never looked and she would certainly never show it hurt everyday that she longed for a man that could match her intellect and drive. Yet it hurt even worse that the man she had placed all her affections onto considered the entire concept of love to be laughable.

"I have to go," she said it a little too quickly and she knew the haste in her voice did not go unnoticed by Gaius. "I'm meeting someone."

"Right," if he noticed he didn't let on. "Really? Who is he? I'm insanely jealous."

"I doubt that," she grumbled, slowly removing her hand from his back and placing at least a few inches difference between them.

"So touché today," he snickered at her, catching onto her ploy. "Well, as a matter of fact, I'm meeting someone, too. Business… a new project at the Ministry of Defense I might do, um... so... ah..."

She knew he was only saying to make himself seem more important, that it really wasn't her leaving him but the other way around.

_Men and always wanting to have the last word_, she thought to herself.

But when he leaned in and placed a kiss on her right cheek she didn't care where ever he could possibly be going... just desperately wanted to be there with him.

"You'll call me later, right?" she nodded, he smiled and before she could fully find where the breath in her lungs had gone, he had disappeared.

He may have been one of the most brilliant doctors in computer technology, but that was just one of the many reasons she felt the heat rising in her cheeks whenever he was around.

"How sweet," she closed her eyes as she recognized the voice of smug self-satisfaction behind her.

"It's about time," she tried to hide her previous display of giddy emotions and turned to regard the One standing beside her. "I wondered when you'd get here, Cavil."

Barely paying her any attention he merely focused on the mission at hand right now. "Are you clear on the timing, Six?"

"0700 tomorrow," she nodded, slipping a non-descript memory drive out of her pocket and sliding it into his hands. "Caprica City time."

"I recommend you leave this body behind," Cavil hastily advised her as he slipped the device into his pocket. "The alternative won't make for a very pleasant memory. Oh, and I hear that poison is really not that bad."

"Thanks for the suggestion," the contempt that dripped in her voice, that scornful glare she shot him, told the other man she didn't like to be told how to finish her mission. "But I have more work to do before the plan reaches fruition… work that you'll need to see that this entire undertaking doesn't take a nose dive the moment you enact it.

"To which I am eternally grateful for," John offered a Cheshire cat smile before turning on his heels and making a quick retreat. "But the moment your done remember to remove yourself as quickly as possible. The humans can't know we've infiltrated them and the longer you stay and the close our plan comes to completion, the more dangerous it becomes. At least do it for the good doctor."

And with that he turned on his boots and strolled off across the grass of the Riverwalk. Six watched him go and for just an instance wondered if she had just done the right thing…

* * *

**Two Days Ago**

Sutherland tossed his mud-covered uniform onto the floor of his quarters, not bothering to concern himself as some non-descript service both quickly gathered the garment up and scurried off. He was more interested in pouring pulling heavy glass out from under his desk and filling it with the amber liquid of a fine scotch.

The thought of spending a few dedicated hours under a nice cold shower, a stiff gulp of his favorite drink and a long sleep was all that was keeping him on his feet. Yet as with any command position, personal time was a luxury he couldn't afford.

Just as he was peeling off his undershirt his personal comm. unit chirped. An incoming call and no matter how much Donald groaned he had to answer it.

"Yes?" he asked as the holo-screen activated and the transparent face of Jitsu appeared in pixilated space.

"_Captain Sutherland_," the AI reported, "_you are required on the bridge_."

"On the way, Jitsu," he confirmed with a sigh.

Throwing on a clean black shirt but staying with his dirt splattered work-pants he pushed out into the tight corridor and made his way towards the bridge.

It was a narrow squeeze, even if the _Savior _was crafted for science; her entire class was designed for function over creature comforts. Sutherland's position as the commanding officer afforded him a few luxuries; everyone had to slide up against the walls to let him past. But even then, it required some fancy navigating to not end up with his nose in the thick fur of a greasy engineering officer or the slimy scales of a reptilian aerologist.

At 334-meters long, the _Running Savior_ was a small mid-range science ship of the _Citlalicue_-class, named after the ancient Aztec goddess who created the stars. Originally developed on the Latin American colony of _Tenochtitlan _barely a century ago, the _Citlalicue_ quickly had become the choice ship in mid-range exploration among the gamete of exploration agencies inside the Hegemony. They were renowned for its excellent fuel efficiency, multi-adaptable design for different mission packages and atmospheric capability without the need for a dedicated AG-generator.

She was a favorite of the All Systems University for quick response operations and nearly became one of their flagship classes, falling just a hair's breath behind the _Conestoga_ long-range explorer that could take on missions for durations of over a decade without support.

From the University's headquarters on _Europa,_ she had been deployed on request of the Turian Hierarchy with two hundred and seven scientists ranging from specialists in linguistics, archaeometry, pale-pathology and ethno-archaeology.

The heavy blast doors of the _Savior's_ bridge parted and Sutherland found most of his senior staff surrounding the main holo-projector with his primary AI standing in the center.

"What is it that has pulled me away from a very cold and refreshing shower," the Captain asked as he approached the assembled group, a deep grumble resonating in his throat.

"Final translation is complete," Clinom announced as a series of images from the temple played across the holo-projector. "I think you're going to find this interesting."

"Go ahead," Donald allowed.

"_According to these 'Sacred Scrolls'_," Wo'wantinol clicked and groaned, her black containment suit still muddy from today's expedition, "_the pentagon shaped pillars are representative of the five priests who worshipped 'The One Whose Name Cannot Be Spoken'. They tell a story about a tribe that left their homeworld of Kobol and in their exact words, 'could no longer accept the desire of one jealous god to be elevated above all other gods. We left Divine Kobol yet the other Twelve Tribes stayed in heaven and were led through the night by The One Whose Name Cannot Be Spoken'_."

"It appears this species was highly religious but technologically advanced enough for interstellar space travel," Clinom provided, "but they believe that one of their Gods led them from their homeworld of Kobol."

"Hold," Donald ordered causing each of the officers surrounding the station freeze. "Jitsu search for a reference of Kobol in the Earth Cultural Database."

"_Searching reference to Kobol_," Jitsu announced. "_One item found... activating historical linguistic files... Persian, a language spoken up until Humanity's 22nd century, belonging to the Western group of the Indo-Iranian branch of the Indo-European language family, and is of the subject object verb type. Native to the former Eastern Islamic Coalition before its dissolution into the Iran/Iraq refugee zones in pre-unified Earth year 2070 C.E. Kobol is Old Persian for 'heaven'._"

"Interesting, they refer to Kobol as _'heaven'_ and paradise," Li said. "Our summary shows this Thirteenth Tribe left Kobol in the early days of a war, led by a _'Fallen Lord of Kobol'_, an angel cast out from heaven if you would. They traveled far and made their home on a distant planet... damage however has destroyed the colony's name and location. We could not discern it."

"_The temple was a way station during their travels to this new world_," Jitsu continued. "_Former occupation shows that it was probably used by a scouting group for a short while as their main tribe followed on. The size of the structure along with the limited dimensions of several store rooms and what appears to be living quarters we found indicates a relatively small population, less then a few dozen at most._"

"Then where was this main colony?" Sutherland asked the obvious question.

"We think we may have an idea," Luanni Aton, the _Savior's_ Andorian pilot and navigator, now added. "If you look at this map carved across the main pillar, its not a mural of the sky of LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q-1b, most of these stars can't even be seen from this planet!"

"Then what is it?" Sutherland asked.

"They're novas," Aton stated, his blue antennas wavering back and forth in excitement. "But to be more precise they're a _chain_ of novas."

"_When we correlated the temple's star-chart through the database,_" Jitsu reported as a series of novas appeared one after another in the holo-display, "_they matched to the positions of novas in our records. The inscriptions below isn't a story, it's a formula for calculating their relative position with stellar drift. No primitive culture could create stellar drift formulas with over a hundred decimal points without a dedicated computer to calculate the statistics. Most interstellar jump-capable species only need to calculate stellar drift to the tenth decimal point to make a jump... only a race with intergalactic jump-capabilities would need a more accurate version._"

"So you think these travelers could have jumped outside of the Magellanic Cloud," Donald thought out loud, "maybe even into Hegemony space and we'd never have known it."

"But look how each nova is inside a specific zone," Stefánsson explained. "Regardless how far they are apart each one barely falls a light year out of alignment with the rest. The chances that these novas evolved naturally are impossible. Something had to make them."

Sutherland scrutinized the map intensely. The natural formation of the Large Magellanic Cloud was that of an irregular cloud, bloated towards the center as it tapered off into two whisky ends. Their location was highlighted by a rotating icon around one of the outer rim stars, each of the corresponding novas indicated by a jagged, drunken line making a straight shot for the inner core of the satellite galaxy.

"Apparently it a trail of bread crumbs," Sutherland mumbled to himself.

"Sir?" the AI inquired.

"Old _Earth_ tale from four-thousand cycles ago," the human waved off. "Short story, some one left us a trail of clues so obvious the initial survey teams should have seen it."

"But sir, why this planet?" Notp'mah asked. "LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q is supposed to go nova in another three or five cycles. All of the novas in the chain are over four-thousand cycles old, the same age as the temple. Why would someone leave this system intact in the nova chain?"

For a second they were all quiet. The implications they were playing with were stretching the limits of their universe. Before the Large Magellanic Cloud was a devoid, lifeless expanse of space. Now they were implying some powerful force was manipulating the very fabric of space, an ability just barely being grasped by the Hegemony.

"Yet if this is a chain," Luanni said, "shouldn't we follow it to its ends to see where it goes."

"_Well that is interesting because we know where one end of the chain is_," Wo'wantinol answered. "_Here, in the Mira Sector. After that its dead space as you hit the void between here and the Milky Way_."

An idea struck Donald.

He may be a headstrong man known for his somewhat in your face style of exploration and disregard for procedure but he did have some dedicated schooling behind him.

"Jitsu correlate the information here," he ordered, "expand the search area beyond the Large Magellanic Cloud. Target for all entries in excess of four thousand cycles and triangulate any within the one-light year corridor."

"_Matches found_," the computer reported as he stepped aside for the image of the Large Magellanic Cloud and the massive form of the Milky Way appeared. "_Displaying.._."

* * *

**Present Time**

_Armistice Station_ was on the ass end of the solar system.

That's what most pilots thought when they found out they were assigned to carry the Colonial envoy to the outpost for what had become the ultimate milk run.

Long ago, just after the war had ended, it was considered the most prestigious honor to fly the route.

Nowadays it was more of a punishment.

"Bringing maneuvering thrusters to full," Captain Michael Polari announced as he pushed his shuttle into alignment with _Armistice Station's_ main airlock.

"Airlock is responding," his copilot, a young enlisted named Tommy Anter confirmed beside him, even as they both could see the long umbilical cord-like airlock press outward and into the side of the shuttle craft. "We have hard-lock."

Colonial Shuttle Six-Nine-Two-Eight or the _Jade Hunt_ as her civilian call sign was slowly began to power down. She was an atmospheric shuttle, the ferry service for the orbital and short-range travel. FTL-capable vessels of the _Jade Hunt's _class could move passengers to and from different vessels in space or to a planet's surface, both for military and civilian crafts, composing the main fleet of the Colonies' ferry boats. The _Hunt _was on loan from the _Patrolstar Thetis_ for a full two days to perform the yearly and traditional expedition to the outpost.

Though for a traditional milk run it was starting out far from that.

"Aft stabilizer is malfunctioning again," Anter cursed as a warning light flashed on his station.

"Seal it off," Captain Polari ordered, "we'll let the techs on _Thetis_ play with it when we get back tomorrow."

Even if this operation was repeated over and over again, year after year without bust, even if it was once considered the greatest honor to make the flight to _Armistice Station_, it didn't mean everyone wanted it to happen. The Colonial military had been campaigning for the scrapping of the entire facility, citing costs and a lack of purpose to finally get rid one of the final reminders of a costly war.

Unfortunately the Quorum of Twelve, most notably some of their more nostalgic delegates, refused to have the station removed or to stop the yearly trips. They were even more adamant its operations continue, not just as a mission but also to replayed a memorial for a war near forgotten.

So in revenge the military had pulled a used car salesman's ploy, give the envoy a shuttle that looked pretty on the outside but had an engine about to fall out from under her hood. Why give them a pristine shuttle they were only going to scratch on the airlock when an older one with a newer paint job could get the mission done.

At least the new automated command navigation program was functioning, the integrated device making the shuttle ride all the simpler. Pioneered by the brilliant Gaius Baltar the system made long and tedious excursions like this one, as simple as flipping a switch. With a singular interface, all the flight and command controls were computer controlled with minimal operator power required.

"We are now docked," Anter reported.

"Good," there one and only passenger, Ambassador Wakefield, grimaced, "this shouldn't take long. I'll radio if I have any problems but other than that I'll say see you in eight hours."

The man, dressed only in a brown Colonial honor guard uniform, a silver briefcase and a total lack of interest painted across his face, removed himself from his passenger seat at the back of the cockpit and made his exit below deck.

Neither Polari nor Anter was sorry to see him go.

Wakefield had been an un-amusing man, a man more concerned with getting this petty mission over with then actually doing his duty. He was officially retired, wanting to spend more time with his son and wife back on Caprica. Yet being the only person in the military still willing to actually board _Armistice Station _these days, he of course took himself out of his retirement for two days a year to make the trip.

"Ambassador has left the shuttle," the cadet confirmed a minute later as the airlock alarm sounded. "Hope he doesn't get any dust on the deck when he comes back."

They both tried to stifle a laugh.

The facility was an ugly thing, a large box atop a control spire, wilted gold solar panels hanging off the sides like sad wings. _Armistice_ had been built in the first days of peace following the end of the war, when resources were scarce and everything beyond just surviving to the next day was considered a luxury by some citizens. She was designed to be the icon of Colonial engineering, something that the higher up brass could show off to the Cylon delegation that was suppose to meet with them every year.

A delegation that never came.

Since the war ended no one had heard anything from the Cylons, they had disappeared into the void of space like a speck of dust in the wind.

Every year the Colonials sent a diplomat.

Every year the Cylons sent no one.

By the tenth year after its construction the Colonial government had stop bothering to expand the outpost. By the thirtieth they had stop upgrading _Armistice_. In this day and age, the station was lucky enough to still be maintained with even the most basic needs.

Now as the _Jade Hunt_ delivered Ambassador Wakefield to the always-quiet Cimtar Conference the pilots onboard had little idea that they were going to become part of history.

"Systems check complete," the young copilot reported to his captain, "we are clear on all circuits and FTL computer is functioning within normal parameters."

"Good," his captain acknowledge at the standard flight check, though out here in the middle of nowhere there was little chance of something exciting happening.

For an hour they sat, pining away their time until the conference was 'officially' over and they could go home. The Captain dozed; the copilot caught up on his backlogged flight reports.

Neither could fathom what was about to happen until it was almost sitting in their laps.

* * *

"By the Great Maker," Notp'mah whispered.

A tight jagged line drifted out of the Large Magellanic Cloud and speared the nearest major galaxy, skirting and tracing through the mess of stars before terminating at a blinking icon.

"The novas spread out the farther you get to the rim of the Large Magellanic Cloud," Sutherland explained his hypothesis. "Taking that into account, it's obvious that it would just increase when you hit the void between the galaxies. It may be an empty space but occasionally you get a stray star or two that drifts out there. It's a lonely death that ends with an obscure nova. Five novas over the 160,000-light cycles and that continue into the Milky Way at increasing distance, right into the heart of the Hegemony."

Stefánsson asked the next question, "Where does it end?"

"_Triangulating the next star within the formula_," Jitsu nodded in holo-space. "_Correlating for stellar drift... removing local radiation profiles... final nova found. Sector zero, zero, one... Sol system_... _Earth_."

"Considering we left _Europa_ only two weeks ago," Sutherland noted, "I believe we can all agree that _Sol_ is not a nova."

"_No other stars fall into any further positions the formula gives us_," the AI expanded on. "_Sol is the last one in the chain_."

"Where does the other end finish?" Aton asked.

"_Novas get closer together as you head deeper into the Large Magellanic Cloud's core_," Jitsu highlighted an obscure star deep in the reaches of the Large Magellanic Cloud. "_They end here. G3PHP887, an unexplored triarny set of G-type stars._"

"_There is no survey data for that area_," Wo'wantinol inserted as she consulted her personal datapad. "_Department of Survey, Terraforming and Colonization have deemed it won't be ready for initial prospecting for another decade_."

"The closest colony to that area is _Teweubu III_," Notp'mah read the description that scrolled over his station, "about 11-light cycles away. Settlement is rated PEMA±1,000, with around 1,500 colonists that primarily export grain, water and voltarium crystals. How could no one notice such a huge find just a short distance from such a newly founded world?"

"Of course they would, but they have missed a critical piece of the puzzle. The finale," Sutherland said. "Pilot Aton, how long would it take us to reach these coordinates."

"Two jumps, three max if we have to stop to reconfigure the navigation," Luanni calculated. "If we contact the University they can deploy an exploration ship here in three months."

"No," Donald shock his head, "We are going to investigate ourselves."

"Sir?" at least three of his senior officers asked at once.

"_Captain Sutherland_," Jitsu announced in a warning tone, "_should I remind you that your probation is still in effect. If you countermand standing orders, it could led to the termination of not only your Non-Hegemony Territorial Certification but your command ranking, notwithstanding any legal deliberations_."

"How many other science teams heard about this temple?" Sutherland countered. "How many more are going to be reading about our discovery because of the University's policy on '_free information sharing_'? What's to stop some treasure hunter from pillaging the greatest find in a millennium! It's our duty to follow through with this."

"Sir," Notp'mah intoned, "this irrational. If you wish we can contact the University for further support but this is a lightly armed, mid-range exploration ship. That location is deep inside unexplored space. We need a fully staffed and stocked ship designed for deep space operations... a _Conestoga_ or _Enterprise_-class explorer before I'd consider going that deep."

"I'm just suggesting a peak to confirm this sites authenticity," Sutherland countered, "not a full excavation. We stay a day or two, get the information and data we need before returning home. It'd put us on the map and ensure we'd have first claim to anything left lying around. What could go wrong..."

* * *

**Present Time**

Tommy checked another box, wondering if the magazine's personality test really was going to be accurate enough to tell him if he was a loving or a jealous partner to his significant other. He wasn't really concerned if his fellow nuggets back on the _Thetis_ found out he was doing a quiz in Picon Women's Life, if they knew he had to sit for an entire two days at _Armistice_ they knew he could have done worse.

Better then Captain Polari who was playing a game of Triad on the flight station beside him.

They were so preoccupied in their distractions the sound of a proximity alarm made them both jump.

"Sir! Unknown vessel just jumped in," Tommy yelled as the dradis console updated itself with a new icon on its screen. "They are moving into dock with the...Cylon airlock."

Both men could only stare in utter confusion, horror and shock at what the newcomer could imply.

No one had heard from the Cylon's in four decades, not since the _Treaty of Cimitar _where the Cylons quickly withdrew their forces and left the solar system without even a second glance back. After a major war that brought humanity to the brink of extinction few people paid any attention after the celebrations were over.

"Contact the Ambassador immediately!" Michael yelled, taking back his command with a terrified vigor. "I think we just got a response from the Cylons."

Anter grabbed his headset which he had carelessly dropped onto his post and threw it over his head, activating his station and trying not to wince at the white noise that screamed suddenly in his ears.

"All channels are static," he yelled as he cycled through every frequency he could find. "We're being jammed!"

This was not good.

Michael had been a newborn during the late Cylon War, to young to remember anything of the intense fighting but the stories had been ingrained in his generation a bit more profoundly then all that followed. Though many juveniles today dismissed the veteran stories as ranting and holding the Colonial civilization back, Polari knew enough about the Cylons to know that they should be feared.

"Prepare to disengage the shuttle!" he yelled, already racing to push the shuttle free of its moorings.

"What about the Ambassador?" Tommy asked, his mouth hanging agape.

"The Cylons show up after forty years and jam our communications!" his captain retorted. "Something is seriously wrong and we need to tell the rest of the Colonies."

"Disengaging docking clamps," just as Anter's words were in the air the Gods decided it was time to play a dirty trick. Like a switch had been flipped the lights went out, the consoles died and even the shuttle's running lights flickered and died.

"What the frak!" the copilot cursed as his futile attempts to reactivate his station were met with clicks and stuttered starts.

"Main power is offline," Michael guessed. "The jamming must have messed with the computer systems. If we purge the software and reboot the old program the cells should reactivate."

"What about the unknown ship?" Anter fearfully asked. "They were docking at the other port."

"Without main power we can't seal the airlock and disengage from the station," Michael summarized for the antsy cadet. "You stay here and I'll dump the programming."

Reluctantly Tommy accepted the orders of his commanding officer, though that didn't stop him from nervously glancing around at the menacing shadows that now consumed the cockpit. When Michael made his exit, those shadows became all the darker.

Not even the emergency flood lights were functioning, only the glow of the star-scape outside gave the room a little light.

They were dead in the water...

* * *

**Two Hours Ago**

The _Savior _pulled out of the atmosphere, superheated ions cooking off in the cold of space. Retracting her atmospheric wing and the vessel pushed her out of the LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q-1b's gravity well.

Above the massive bulk of _Ascension _coasted over the tiny ship, a condor over the minnow. From the observation deck Galmahorn was just signing off one final reports of LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q-2c's final strip mining when a very flustered Foreman Captain Vatarki rushed to his side.

"Sir, the _Savior_ is on an exit vector from the planet," he stifled a gasp for breath. "Sensor crews say their FTL is powered up."

"WHAT!" Mehtkuri roared, his exoskeleton jaw grinding his pallet. "Get me an uplink to Captain Sutherland... NOW!"

Galmahorn was foam at the mouth as his intense dislike for humans began to rear it ugly head.

They were undisciplined, headstrong and well known for their dishonorable guerilla tactics. When the Hierarchy had first encountered them, the Turians were part of the now defunct Citadel Council, a somewhat more legislative version of the Hegemony of Sentient Worlds. Along with the Asari Republics and Salarian Union, the Citadel Council was the largest empire on their side of the galactic core.

On the 8th day of Marekt, 1,591 A.F., or June 10th, 4.512 C.E. for the Human colonists involved, a Turian scouting fleet had stumbled onto the colony of _Morningstar. _Barely six-hours after first contact, the ground team dispatched to open diplomatic relations discovered that 189-cycles previous a mining crew had unearthed a dormant egg… the egg of a Rachni Queen.

3,425-cycles ago the Citadel Council had encountered the highly intelligent hive-minded insects after activating a dormant relay to their solar system… sparking 120-cycles of conflict that were commonly known as the Rachni Wars. The Rachni were too dangerous, too bloodthirsty to exist in any numbers, the campaign of extermination the Citadel Council had ordered against them had been proof of their devotion to the removal of such an enemy.

The fact that the _Morningstar_ colonists were not only harboring a fully grown hive of formerly thought to be extinct insectiods but were actively aiding one of the most hated enemy of the Council, prompted the patrol fleet to immediately attempted to sterilize the planet.

The response found six Turian cruisers facing down the barrels of a _minor_ Hegemony system picket fleet only three vessels strong.

To say the Turians were summarily ousted from _Morningstar_ was an understatement; their ships were disabled, jumped to the nearest Citadel base and promptly dumped with the warning to never again attack a Hegemony world or face war.

Though later the '_Morningstar Incursion_', or as the former Council races knew it as the _'End Times'_, forced the Turians to make heavy reparations to Solorian Federation, Hegemony of Sentient Worlds and the Rachni Queens, it left a bitter taste in the Turian's gizzards for generations to follow.

That taste only grew worse after the collapse of the Council's economy and military infrastructure following the horrific Second Krogan Rebellion eighty-cycles, promoting their protectorate members like the Elcor Courts of Dekuun, Hanar Illuminated Primacy, Volus Vol Protectorate and the Quarian Migration Fleet to threaten that if the Council continued to deny the Hegemony's offer of humanitarian aid, refugee relief efforts and a removal of all trade levies and tariffs on inside Citadel space they would secede.

Increased, non-censured contact led to the expansion of the Hegemony's culture into their space, the technological advances wetted corporate interests enough to make them want more and the cheap, quickly produced goods had the civilian population clamoring for access to every trade ship that entered their space. It was barely a decade after the Second Krogan Rebellion when the Council drafted a membership application, the Citadel government was dissolved and the former three-thousand cycle old nation was absorbed into the Hegemony as yet another member nation.

All ignored the protests by the Turian Hierarchy.

And now under Hegemony rule had only cause that feeling to subside in but the more liberal Turian youths, that didn't mean hard-liners like Galmahorn were swayed.

But while Galmahorn had an intense dislike of humans, he hated Donald Sutherland.

The man was arrogant, self righteous and nosey to a fault. He was more interested in the fame and money of scientific success then the contribution it should be making to society.

Men like Sutherland should have been sterilized from birth and then left to their own devices on an isolated world where they could cause no harm... not given command of a ship.

"Channel open to the _Savior_," a comm. tech confirmed as Mehtkuri activated the communication.

"This is Foreman Admiral Galmahorn Mehtkuri to _Running_ _Savior_," he announced over the comm. unit. "Captain Sutherland, my ship is detecting your FTL drive is going active. Is there a problem?"

Onboard the _Savior_, Sutherland made a silence cue with his hand at Clinom, the Vegan reluctantly complied.

"Ignore him," Donald ordered as he busied himself with Aton at the navigation console. "Bring us to terminal jump distance."

"Captain Sutherland, please respond," the Turian continue to rant much to Sutherland displeasure. "Your FTL drive is online and you are obviously making headway to leave orbit. If you do no respond I will have to lodge a formal complaint with the All Systems University."

_Savior_ had entered into its final approach for jump.

Once free of the gravity well taxing its engines, the FTL drive began to spin up. Power ebbed as energy was diverted to the very consuming system and everyone braced themselves.

"FTL coils are locked," Luanni reported, "navigation have a entered in the temple's coordinates."

"Begin final countdown," Donald ordered.

"Sutherland this is Mehtkuri," the Foreman Admiral roared, "tell me what is going on!"

"Jump drive active in three, two..."

On the observation deck Foreman Admiral Galmahorn Mehtkuri could only watch as the _Savior_ accelerated and disappeared as the tiny science vessel jumped away.

"Do we have any idea where they went?" the Turian howled at his entire command staff.

"Unknown," Garrus announced. "We can't track them through a jump and they never logged a flight profile with us."

This was not good. Captain Sutherland wasn't someone who would walk away from his work and being on probation with the University, a fact that Galmahorn had protested when his ship was assigned to LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q, he would never have done something so out of line.

But their was one thing that would get Sutherland to go out of his way, to cause problems, to go gallivanting out into the void without telling anyone.

He had found something...big.

"Get me the nearest Hegemony Space Guard unit!" the Foreman Admiral yelled.

"I have the 12th Theta Spiral Arm Offensive Fleet within range, designated flagship is the attack cruiser _HSS Higher Court_, 23-light cycles away," Garrus reported. "What should we tell them?"

"Tell them we may have a problem," Mehtkuri announced in a stoic voice. "Donald Sutherland is on the lose again."

* * *

**Present Time**

The lower decks of the _Jade Hunt_ were far more open and expansive compared to the cockpit. Down here a shuttle was designed to carry passengers and luggage but since this was supposed to be a milk run weren't carrying anything that consumed serious space.

As Michael descended the stairs from the cockpit he tried not to pay attention to the open airlock. Without the main power his flashlight cast an ominous glow around the passenger bay, keeping Polari on his toes.

Pressing the fear out of his head, Michael reached the aft computer core and quickly removed the service panel from the bottom of the station.

Slipping the flashlight into his mouth since he needed both his hands, Polari pushed wires and circuits out of his way, already knowing what he was suppose to be looking for. Finally his fingers closed around the CNP module and gripping the white dome creation in his fingers he quickly wrenched the device from its lock.

Just as the noise of it disconnecting from the power relay became loud enough for Michael to hear another sound caught his ears. It sounded like a metal hitting metal, a resounding machine like thud.

His spine went rigid, the hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention and his eyes went wide. In one fluid motion Michael spun around and in his haste dropped the flashlight.

Clattering to the floor he cursed and quickly snatched the torch from the floor and swept it across the passenger bay. Light rushed back and forth, over the empty bunk beds, a few duffle bags on the floor and a small card table in the corner. Other then those only empty blank walls of the _Jade Hunt_ surrounded him.

But for some reason Michael knew he wasn't alone.

Fear of the dark, the emptiness of nothing however was enough to get him back to work. Rushing to the back cargo crates he pulled the replacement parts from the box and moved back to slide the new CNP into place.

It took some maneuvering and even as he fiddled with the mechanism he could almost imagine the sound of footsteps.

His eyes swung again towards the open airlock, again the darkness of the station beyond scaring the wits from Michael.

Maybe it was the Ambassador, coming back from the conference room to investigate why the power had failed.

But nothing moved in the beam his flashlight cast.

How he just wish the fear would go away.

With a bang and a pop the new CNP slide into place. Now replaced Michael stood to full attention and hit the reset switch on the station.

Like a hive of bees coming to life, the lights flickered on, the engines powered back up and the airlock doors slide close with a heavy crash behind him.

"_Captain Polari_!" Tommy voice was frantic over his radio, "_we have company. I think you should get up here now_!"

"Anters," he yelled over the radio, as triumph and victory overwhelmed Michael's sense, "begin an emergency launch!"

"_On it, sir_!" the youngster yelled over the speaker.

Knowing now that everything was all right Polari turned to return to the cockpit, sighing a breath he didn't know he had been holding in for the last minute or so.

He never even had a chance to realize the Cylon Centurion was in his path until he slammed face first into its metal chest.

* * *

"What do we have on the board," Captain Donald Sutherland asked as he reoriented himself from the sudden bout of dizziness that accompanied any FTL jump.

They had left LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q almost three jumps ago, ten thousand-light cycle and two hours ago, much to the protest of that unstable Turian Foreman Admiral.

He would have to answer that for later, in the mean time a discovery of epic portions was to be made.

"_A large capital ship of a geometric design and a small outpost_," Wo'wantinol reported between clicks. "_It's interesting to note that there is a stark difference in the level of technology between the two. The amount of energy emissions I'm getting from the capital ship is far more refined and larger than the stations_."

"_My scans are reading bio-etheric energy emanating from the capital ship_," Jitsu said. "_It appears they have organic technology, a massive technological advancement over the technology onboard the station. I do not believe they are from the same species_."

"Activate the standard language package and keep our distance until they respond," Sutherland commanded following standard protocol for a possible first contact situation.

First contact protocol was the highest law in the entire Hegemony.

With assets spread across not only three settled galaxies but also numerous stellar clusters, contact with outside races was a major concern of the empire. After several botched and failed first contacts during their formative cycles that had led to disastrous relations between different nations and even a major inter-galactic war, a series of laws was enacted to ensure that there was no chance of a foreseeable misshape.

All command level officers wishing to gain a Non-Hegemony Territorial Certification were ordered to undergo intensive first contact classes regardless if they were military or civilian, a fact that had kept several men and women from ever leaving boundaries of the empire.

Better to keep a hot head off the trigger and especially out of the negotiation room.

Sutherland was still on probation from violating that certification but hopefully this discovery of the first sentient species found in the entire Large Magellanic Cloud.

Coupled with these skills a language package was the standard means of greeting a new alien species. It held the basic information for almost any race to build a better understanding for diplomatic contact. Mathematic sequences with prime number factors, a sampling of hundreds of basic languages and the complete plans for programming of a basic universal translation matrix was included in the first transmissions, in order to create a better cultural understanding between the two parties.

But even the best-laid plans could be fraught with unknown variables and that was the reason why distance was the number one factor in any first contact. FTL drives were to be kept on standby, gun ports kept armed but closed and at least a few hundred thousand kilometers distance to make a speedy retreat. If anything were to go wrong the jump coordinates for the closest military base that could render assistance were to be programmed into the jump computer at all times.

Everyone just collective wished they would need all those precautions.

The _Running Savior_ was no stranger to first contact situations; three successful approaches had been made and in one frightening instance... a potentially deadly failure. Though none had been under command of Captain Sutherland, thankfully. But that was of little concern as those were while the _Savior _was an unarmed science vessel.

The All Systems University had been wish enough to start upgrading most of their long-range and mid-range vessels with defenses, evident from the two very large anti-proton cannons on her dorsal and ventral side that had been installed barely a month ago.

Sutherland was already calculating potential problems and escape routes as they approached the two distant crafts, even if the taste of adventure was driving him on the inside, basic survival instinct kept him on his toes for any interruptions to his plans.

In every simulation the _Savior_ required only one minute to make a full one hundred and eighty degree turn while charging its engines, a full burn for maximum thrust could put some distance between the unknowns before a FTL jump could be computed and completed, a near perfect record that Sutherland had only had to prove once.

But in only a minute a lot can go wrong…

* * *

The lights flickered, the engines groaned but slowly power returned to the cockpit.

Insufferable darkness gave way to his brightly lit station and a sudden gasp of hope in the young cadet.

But everything went to hell when a massive ship jumped into the once empty space above the station.

Anter had to crane his head up from the main windows of the flight station to get a better view but his animal instinct told him one thing.

Run... fast.

It was almost majestic and deadly at the same time, towering over the tiny outpost in such a way that the pilot onboard must have chosen that position of the vessel purposely to make that impression all the more obvious.

It took a second for the Colonial pilot to realize that after forty years, this was what a Cylon _Basestar_ had become.

The shape of the newer _Basestar_ reflected its name, with two Y-shaped hulls attached at their centers by a single pylon, giving the ship the distinctive star shape its designation implied. Her upper and lower hull of the arms were coated in a cool chrome armor while the inside was black exposed scales and windows, hiding the vast number of _Raiders_ and missiles the ship could throw into the air in a matter of moments.

"Captain Polari!" Tommy activated the radio as he frantically tried to raise his commanding officer, "we have company. I think you should get up here now!"

"_Anters_," an almost ecstatic Polari responded, "_begin an emergency launch_!"

"On it, sir!" the youngster yelled over the mic as he prep the engines.

Racing as quickly as he could Tommy forgot most of the necessary preflight checks and rushed to press the engines into service.

He was so preoccupied that he didn't hear the cockpit door slide open.

"Engines charging," Anter reported to his Captain. "Preparing to retract the airlock docking clamp."

Tommy Anter was so engrossed in his work he never picked up on the metal grating or throbbing sound of motors.

The Centurion retracted its finger appendages and deployed it arm cannon.

With the click of the switching machinery was enough to final grab Tommy's attention, just long enough for him to turn towards the other occupant of the cockpit.

A blast of gunfire sprayed across the room, splaying a limp bloodied body over the flight station and blood over the white walls. The Centurion retracted its arm cannon, surveying the carnage and display of gore it had caused.

No emotion, just raw logic confirmed the shuttle's flight crew had been eliminated to his superiors. With no possible escape the Cylon envoy could now make first and final contact with the Colonial ambassador...

* * *

"I'm detecting a radiation halo coming from the core of the capital ship," Notp'mah reported as the radiological alarm began to sound, alerting the crew of the possible danger. "I think they're activating some kind of thermonuclear weapon."

Sutherland already knew this couldn't be good.

Primitive space age species were prone to violent reactions to intrusions into their space; several thousand cycles of alien contact had managed to breed that reaction out of most of humanity.

This invasion of their territory could have already provoked an act of self-defense in these creatures, thinking the _Savior _as some terrible warship coming to invade their defenseless little world.

As if on cue the massive capital ship launched two missiles at the outpost it was orbiting over. One slammed into the control spire below the main habitation hub, sending secondary explosions up its spine. Another impacted into the boxy hab-unit on top of the structure, resulting in a massive detonation that not only destroyed the facility but also the small white shuttle connected to it.

Sutherland didn't need any incentive to stick around longer as the hostile craft began to accelerate towards them.

"Deploy the armor and pull us back," the Captain announced as he inched to the edge of his seat.

Reactions were immediate; the ship began to bank away as his crew jumped to their duties... but just not fast enough.

The lights of the bridge suddenly flickered and dimmed, catching everyone's attention. Even more so when the holographic body of Jitsu dissolved into static before fading.

"Report!" Sutherland ordered, "Jitsu, system analysis... Jitsu respond?"

"What the hell," Li roared as he hammered the face of his station. "My console just went dead."

"_My station too_," Wo'wantinol concurred.

"The entire computer network has shut down!" Louise announced as he tried in vain to reactivate the controls on his computer. The numerous failure responses showed he was failing to reactivate the network.

"I have basic navigation control and limited access to the star charts!" Luanni Aton, the only officer with a functioning station yelled to the other four members of the crew.

"All computer functions above regular survival level actions are inactive, Captain." Stefánsson reported as the obvious became apparent to everyone. "From what limited access I have, it looks like the AI shut down and purged all higher functions of the core computer."

"Why the hell would it do that?" Sutherland asked in a bewildered tone.

In effect Jitsu had just committed digital suicide.

_Running Savior_, like all of All System's University ships, carried a back generation Mk 812 artificial intelligence. While it was nowhere near the interactive holographic computer interface avatars of the Space Guard navy and lacking almost everything considered basic emotional programming the Mk 812, was still a competent computer.

It would only have shut itself down and committed itself to digital oblivion of a purge if there was a serious problem that threatened the ship and crew.

"I don't know but it's left us completely defenseless and only able to run at haft speed," the worried look on Stefánsson's face only helped to mask the terror that was bubbling up inside of him right now. They were in serious danger.

"Unknown capital ship is launching fighters and missiles!" Notp'mah roared as emergency sirens began to sound in response to the threat.

"Hard about, get us out of here!" Sutherland bellowed. "Why did we lose computer control?"

"I think it may be a malware attack," Stefánsson surmised. "The computer has locked us out of all higher functions that could comprise the security of the ship and the Hegemony at large."

"_Incoming nuke!_" Wo'wantinol called out, the fear ebbing in her throats since they were defenseless to the attack, "_impact in sixty seconds_."

"The AI has locked us out of the entire navigation database," Stefánsson said as he read the few lines of code the computer would give him, "save for the location of three Space Guard fleets."

"Why the Space Guard?" Aton asked as he continued to try and press the _Savior's_ engines harder.

"I think the computer knew it was going to lose control and in order to protect us it destroyed everything," said Stefánsson, "but a few key navigation points that could provide emergency assistance."

The entire command deck was throttled to the side as a resounding explosion rocked the ship violently. Sutherland was thrown to the hard metal floor as his crew held onto their stations with white knuckles and strained limbs.

"Direct hit to the starboard hull!" Notp'mah called out as the strain of a few extra gravities weighted heavily on his dual-chambered heart.

"We are venting drive plasma from engine three," Stefánsson added as warning lights flashed all over his station.

"Cut power and reroute the energy through secondary couplings," Sutherland tried to put some amount of professionalism into his voice as he hoisted himself up from the floor.

"They're not responding!" Aton screamed as the entire switchboard of the navigation controls blinked in nothing but red lights. "Critical overload is charging in reactor twelve."

"Manually dump the core contents," Sutherland remembered from his training, "and pull the backups."

"Done but backups are not functioning," Stefánsson assessed. "We're losing core stability!

More warning alarms blared as now Wo'wantinol added her voice to the situation. "_Fire in the hydroponics bay, suppression systems are not responding_."

"Evacuate that deck and vent the atmosphere," Sutherland commanded.

"They're launching another nuke," Notp'mah provided. "Impact in seventy seconds!"

"Bring us about, all power to engines," Donald commanded. "Stefánsson try to work around those computer blocks and get our engines back."

"It won't make a difference," Louise interjected. "We'd need an entire computer technical staff and a brand new AI program to get those back."

"Then were as you human's say 'screwed'," Clinom's attempt at humor was not a welcome addition to the stressed air of the bridge.

"Nuke is gaining," Notp'mah screamed, "Estimated thirty seconds to impact."

"We're moving too slow," Luanni continued to push the limited engines as fast as they could, "The speed and inertia are on our side but those missiles and warship are gaining faster."

"_Can we pour power into the main drive_," Wo'wantinol asked, "_use the G-force thrust to knock the missiles off course_."

"That thing is tracking us," Notp'mah shock his head. "I doubt if we give it a push with the engines it just won't correct course or detonate it's proximately load. Fifteen seconds!"

"Do it anyway!" Sutherland screamed.

"Cutting engines," Aton announced, "pressing the power to full."

Outside the _Savior's_ engines flared and died, the craft pushing forward with inertia, as friction did not exist in space to slow her down. But even with her engines cut and the psychics of space on her side the missile was still gaining.

A frothy white trail of engine exhaust created a wobbling line from the weapon back to the _Basestar_, which was pressing its engines to full in its pursuit.

"Seven seconds to impact!" Notp'mah yelled as the proximity sensor's alarm became louder in the bridge crew's ears.

"Hold for it Mr. Aton... hold it..." Sutherland coached the Andorian before finally erupting with... "NOW!"

All five engines kicked in at full strength and even with the inertial dampeners and artificial gravity that didn't stop the entire crew from feeling the sudden G-force thrust. Neither did the missile as the blast of energy created a shockwave strong enough to knock the warhead off course.

Unfortunately the _Savior_ had been placing all their bets on the device either detonating its payload then and there or would lack any kind of sophisticate tracking system to reorient itself after such an impact.

They lost that bet to the latter.

Quickly coming about the missile completed a wide angle bank and rush back towards its prey.

"No effect, its coming around again!" Notp'mah announced. "Impact in twenty seconds."

"All hands brace for impact!" the Captain roared.

Seconds later the warhead struck the _Savior_ from behind, sending the ship flying end over end as atomic energies burned across her hull. Two of the main drive engines sputtered and then went dark, another one suffering a secondary explosion from a ruptured fuel line and blasting the entire assembly off.

"Hull damage to decks 5 through 11, port stabilizers are failing," Stefánsson grimly announced, "and the main drive is off line!"

"Casualty reports!" Sutherland followed up with.

"Eighteen crewmen down," Li announced, "ten critically injured, four dead."

Captain Sutherland couldn't imagine the amount of damage had been done to not only his ship but also his crew but they needed to get out of here and fast.

"_Unknown warship is approaching on vector seven-seven mark one_," Wo'wantinol called out. "_They are launching a ship, and it is being escorted by portions of their fighter screen_."

"I can't get anything on the scanners," Notp'mah reported, "but my guess since they aren't doing a good job blowing us up they've launched borders to scuttle us."

"Alert the crew for incoming hostiles," Donald commanded. "Distribute weapons to the security officers and set up bottle necks in the main corridors."

"Sir, the weapons are code locked," Notp'mah interrupted. "Without the main computer we can't access them.

"Plasma torches," Stefánsson countered, "we keep them all over. Have the crew modify them and use 'em!"

"_Boarders are inbound_!" Wo'wantinol updated. "_They are heading for port docking hatch 7, deck 10_."

"Order the damage repair crew to seal the hatch," Sutherland ordered, "burn out the docking controls."

Ten decks below and more then two hundred meters back a Cylon _Heavy Raider_ pressed forward, syncing itself up with the airlock of the _Savior_. Since nukes wouldn't work, the _Basestar_ had decided to go with a more personal approach.

Whoever these people were they obviously weren't Colonials and Cylon High Command wanted access to them and their unique ship.

Pushing inward with thrusters the Heavy Raider attached itself at what appeared to be some kind of docking hatch.

_Heavy Raiders_ were a duel function transport and attack craft, sporting a six cannon gun under the cockpit area and two rotatable missile launchers she was a deadly craft to deal with. More independent then a _Raider_, they could be piloted by either a Centurion or a humanoid Cylons and were far more versatile then their smaller counterparts. But for the increase range and diversity the Heavy Raider could provide its speed and maneuvering was severely lacking.

Right now a Six was performing the delicate ballet to bring her cargo of twelve armed Centurions into dock with the alien vessel and trying not to overcompensate too much with the engines and end up taking them both out.

Their ship was advanced, any craft their size, and Colonial or Cylon should have been obliterated after two missile strikes. It worried Six to wonder if their worm virus had caused the collapse of some of their higher computing functions, then what could they be facing down.

Entering in an adaptive investigative attack virus, it didn't take much effort after that to hack their lopsided network, especially an unprotected system like a docking hatch. As long as she didn't attempt to override the safeties and vent the entire ship and remained with in the basic activity of the mechanism, open out door, close outer door, open inner door, it was simple to override.

Anything else would prompt the system's safeties to lock the docking port closed for fear for the loss of atmosphere.

"Breach!" Stefánsson screamed back up on the bridge. "They hacked the docking control!"

"_This is the Captain to all crewmen_," the engineer was so preoccupied he almost didn't hear Donald taking over the intercom system. "_We have borders, repeated borders. Man your stations and hold the line. Anyone with combat training is advised to report to the closest security station for assignment. All civilian personnel are to barricade themselves at their positions and wait for rescue. That is all," _Donald had to wish against all his concern and worry on what that docking ship held, his crew would be okay and their ship would make it through this. Yet the urge to think about his own safety however continued to crop up inside his psyche forcing him to push it down and return to his duty as leader of these people. "Notp'mah give me a camera feed of port docking hatch seven."

The main holo-screen dissolved from speeding stars cape to an obscure security camera in the below decks.

Port docking hatch seven slide back out of view and the _Savior's _bridge crew got their first real vie of a Cylon Centurion.

"_They're mechaniods?_" Wo'wantinol said what everyone had concluded. "_That's how they sent us the virus and hacked the docking control_."

Twelve Centurions disembarked before the hatch finally rolled back into place. Two of the machines remained to guard the hatch while the remaining ten moved off, six towards the forward, five to aft.

Just as the groups of sextuplets were heading off one suddenly stopped. From their voyeur position the bridge crew watched with interest as the machine tilted its head and suddenly turned its burning red eye towards the camera.

Without hesitation it pulled its arm cannon and opened fire, creating a dazzling flash of lights before the camera feed disappeared into static.

"Clinom give the evacuation order for deck 10 and lock it down. Notp'mah get me a camera on those mechaniods," Donald yelled as he headed towards Stefánsson's station. "Do we still have environmental controls?"

"Minimal," the man explained. "I can vent the atmosphere and adjust the gravity plating but that's it."

"Adjust the gravity plating on deck 10 to twenty-G's," the Captain ordered.

"Just around Jovian norm," the smile that spread across Stefánsson's lips showed the evil plan his commanding officer had. "Should be enough to slow them down."

_Savior _may have had a primarily oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere and Earth-norm gravity, the craft was designed to support a multitude of environments and atmospheres. Since the Hegemony, to which the All Systems University was a special interest group of, they had naturally designed their exploration vessels to support all manners of crew and guests that could be boarding from every conceivable world within their imaginations. _Savior_ did support a tri-cycling life support system, allowing them to create a multitude of environments, from the sulfuric atmosphere of _Venus_... to the crippling gravity of _Jupiter's_ 'surface'.

A heavy AG-field activated under the Centurion's feet and even with the high-yield shock absorbing servos the machines collapsed to the floor. Crushing gravity kept the aft bound boarders bound to the ground and another three forefront, but not all of the mechaniods were down.

Three of the Centurions pushed forward, abandoning their comrades to the crushing AG-field.

"Though little monsters," Notp'mah muttered.

"Not too much," Sutherland had noted where the machines had managed to reach and another plan sprung into his head. "Seal the secondary cargo doors nine."

Heavy blast doors designed to sustain the howling cold of space and the damage a loss cargo crate could do, the barrier rolled into place and right over one of the two invaders. Several tons of refined Neo-steel slammed into the trailing mechaniod and reduced it to a sparking pile of scrap under its weight.

The leading Centurion was not deterred.

"One left," Notp'mah confirmed the obvious.

"Have security teams intercept it and deal with it," Sutherland ordered.

"_Unknown alien warship is launching another bordering boarding ship_!" Wo'wantinol reported, "_Looks like their droids are calling in reinforcements_."

"Can we dump our boarder?" Sutherland asked back towards Notp'mah.

"_Negative_," the security chief disavowed. "_They hacked the docking control and locked the system into place. They can leave and we can't get them off_."

"Do you have the engines back online yet?" Donald inquired to his chief engineer.

"Compensating for the failure derivative power array," Stefánsson confirmed. "We have limited engine power."

"Bring us around," the Captain ordered, "and plot an intercept course for that warship, give me manual control."

"Sir?" Luanni asked.

"Just do it!" Sutherland roared.

With the _Heavy Raider_ still attached the _Savior's _engines powered up and thrust the craft forward, creating a lopsided dance as the science ship's engines tried to compensate for its extra passenger and missing drive assembly.

But the _Savior _was not running again.

Arching back towards the _Basestar_, the vessel rolled right passed the second _Heavy Raider_ and towards the mothership. Fighters tried to intercept but even with her limited power she was still fast enough to outrun their attackers.

But the _Savior _didn't want to be outrun.

Tilting on her side the small science vessel pushed the trapped _Heavy Raider _atop the craft and even as the Six onboard tried in vain to jettison her vessel, the _Savior _closed on the _Basestar._

Like a dog trying to scratch off a tick they couldn't reach, the _Savior _carried the Cylon boarder right back and into its homeport.

The _Basestar_ and _Heavy Raider_ collided full throttle with the _Savior_ racing onward, searing the bottom of one of the warship's upper pylons as the smaller ship broke into a fiery blast.

With its 'passenger' gone, the _Savior _leap forward, but the trailing stream of broken metal and split atmosphere had left the illusion of blood in the water for the now enraged _Basestar_ to follow.

"Heavy damage to sensors, hull integrity and internal EPS conduits. Core stability is falling," Stefánsson announced the second after they had cleared the _Basestar_. "Thirty seconds to full breach."

The situation was only getting worse no matter how much the crew tried valiantly to hold the _Savior_ together, the situation was slowly spiraling out of their control. Without the armor they couldn't raise a defense against weapons that had been considered obsolete for the last three thousand cycles and now after three hits they were in deep water. One hi had critically damaged a number of systems and left the ship sputtering to recover, a second had taken out their main drive for a few seconds, the final could only help to shatter whatever form of hull integrity they had left.

Sutherland had only one option.

"Can we calculate jump coordinates to the closest Space Guard flotilla?" he asked.

"Yes," Aton nodded, "but with the main core is nearing critical and with the backups not functioning we don't have the power to make it."

Stefánsson called out the remedy immediately. "Shunt the main core energy into the backups."

"What!" most of the remaining crew responded with.

"Two more nukes incoming!" Notp'mah warned. "Fighters closing!"

"If we shunt the core's energy into the backups the automatic safeties will activate," the chief engineer explained. "There not under computer control... they run on their own systems separate from the AI's. If they read energy building up in their banks they discharge it, right into the jump coils so we can make a jump!"

"_Yes but in the process it will shunt power into every other connected system_," Wo'wantinol countered. "_That includes life support, plasma control, sensors, even the food processors. We'd blow out every major circuit on the ship and critically damage ourselves_."

"Would you prefer we take another nuke?" Stefánsson quirked an eyebrow at the comment.

The silence lasted barely another second before everyone was in motion.

"Prepare to shunt power!" Sutherland announced.

"Missile contact in thirty seconds!" Notp'mah called out again.

Though they were rushing Sutherland had to wonder how long they had to complete the modification and the time left until the next missile struck. "Mr. Stefánsson?"

The engineer only nodded, "Calculating the transfer!"

"Missile contact in fifteen seconds," Notp'mah counted down.

"Mr. Stefánsson!" the Captain said as panic began to creep into his voice.

"I almost have it finished!" Stefánsson reassured.

The proximity alarm of the approaching warhead only heightened the situation, each pause between the beep of the incoming ordinance grew shorter.

"MR. STEFANSSON!" Sutherland screamed.

"Shunting power!" Stefánsson retorted.

"Coils are overloading!" Aton yelled.

"Jump!" and that was the last order Captain Donald Carlin Woodsview Sutherland gave as everything on the command deck dissolved into white light.

* * *

Inside the cavernous interior of the _Basestar Omega 83,_ seven individuals gathered inside the Command and Control Center of the vessel.

Data streams, literally composed of streaming water-like data, replaced most of the work stations on the deck, providing a transmission and storage medium for the Cylon controllers to use in a far more speedy form of data correlation and processing. Consisting of illuminated panels covered by a thin layer of water, the different models could interface directly with the data streams of incoming information, reducing the need for cumbersome visual displays and dradis consoles.

Numerous Cylons manned these stations, pressing their hands into the different pools, whispering orders among themselves as the seven leaders met in the heart of the command room.

"The unknown ship has jumped away," a Number Three reported as he disengaged from the dradis console. Dressed in a crisp blue suit that his entire line seemed to prefer, he was more than a bit annoyed of the aliens escape from the Cylon's clutches.

"Shouldn't we launch a pursuit," a concerned Eight inquired, her dark raven hair pulled up unlike the classic free hanging style of her group, "our virus managed transmit the coordinates they were jumping to."

"Our forces are already committed to their strike against the Colonials," the preachy tone of the One ground on all the model's nerves, especially under the brim of his brown leather hat. "We cannot deviate from God's will."

"The virus we transmitted did gain access to their navigational logs. Nothing concrete but the point they jumped to was also well beyond the red line of our fastest _Raiders_," a Number Two informed the group, his dark skin adding to his haunted look. "It would take almost seven hours to catch up to them and by then they could be long gone."

"Our operatives are in place, the back-door programs are just nearing finish and almost a hundred _Basestars_ are in position for the strike," a Three in a startling white suit announced in a commanding tone to the six other models. "If we abort now we won't be ready for another commitment this large for over six years. Their intrusion across the Armistice Line last year is valid evidence they are starting to get cocky in their abilities. It's now or never."

"Then it goes to a vote," a Four announced running his hand through his sand colored hair, ending the discussion. The other models immediately went quiet and each added their hands to the data streams to cast the votes of each their lines. "Two for aborting the attack on the Colonies to pursue the alien vessel, five to continue with our plans," was his final count.

"Good," One nodded in his triumphant win. "We cannot afford any interruptions to the grand design. No one will be expecting the return of the Colonial's shuttle for at least another day."

"Our _Resurrection Ship_ will be jumping in along with three other _Basestars_," the Six acknowledged. "Prepare the hybrid to begin the final calculations."

Each knew their roles and set to work to what was the fruition of their years of work.

Central to this labor was the Hybrid, the living core of the _Basestar_ personified. She represented the first step of the mechanized Cylons towards a more organic evolution. Taking the form of young ladies, Hybrids spent their entire lives in immersions tanks, a autonomous bio-mechanical system built to control the autonomous functions of the _Basestar_, including navigation, sub-light or FTL-propulsion, and climate control.

More akin to cyborgs, consisting of conduits and other connectors mated to the body, the Cylons created the first Hybrid from abducted human civilians on whom they conducted medical experiments during the first Cylon War. They were not considered alive by the other models of Cylon society; many considered the Hybrids have seen the place "between life and death" and have been driven mad as a result. Throughout their entire existence, even forgoing the basic need of sleep, they talked to the nothing of empty space around.

Their utterances appear to be a mixture of system status reports as well as observations of events in and around the _Basestar_, barely describable in words. A Hybrid's connectivity to its _Basestar_ provided it with a remarkable awareness of the surrounding space. They appear to experience a form of ecstasy, perhaps at an orgasmic level, when accomplishing certain tasks such as FTL jumps.

It was their aloft nature and total lack of discernable intelligence that made interacting with them a taboo among the Cylons.

The Hybrid of _Basestar Omega 83_ was among the most powerful in the Cylon fleet and as such the Cylon's onboard her were terrified to be in the same room with her. But her mission was the critical portion of the Cylon genocide of the Colonies.

With the arrival of her sister ships and the _Resurrection Ships_ they would complete the end of humanity's demise…


	2. Chapter Two: Stumbling in the Night

**Chapter Two**: Stumbling in the Night

**Rating**: PG-13

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Feedback: **Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers:** I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywrited by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

* * *

_If history teaches us anything, it is simply this: every revolution carries within it the seeds of its own destruction. And empires that rise, will one day fall._

**Vega Empress Jessica Valdez, excerpt from**_** Death of a Vegan Empress,**_** circa 4719 C.E.**

**

* * *

**

**Time**:_ Month of Ichor, Nineteenth Day, 3020 A.F. Hegemony Calendar / February 21st, 6230 C.E. Terran Calendar_

**Location**: _Stellar Remnant 937ς9382νBnv82, Chi Quadrant, Large Magellanic Cloud_

_

* * *

_

He parried to the left, his _Skika_-blade connected with the serrated edge of a _Kiy_-sword. Sweat stained his fur but he could pay it little attention as he ducked a right hook and responded with an elbow to his attacker's thorax.

Gritting his canines and pushing upward he knocked the opponent back, causing them to stumble for just an instance before they recovered. The _Kiy_-sword came back again and like breathing or blinking the _Skika_-blade intercepted and knocked it back.

The sudden force managed to throw the other side off balance, giving him the critical time to make the killing below.

So engrossed in his sparing match, the thrill of a coming victory, Vonaka Volaska almost didn't hear the intercom system bellowing in his quarters.

"_Alert… alert…_" a woman's voice echoed in Vonaka's ears, the sound vibrating off the walls and from far away. "_All crews to combat posts… all crews to combat posts… this is not a drill… Admiral Volaska to command… Admiral Volaska, please report to command…_"

"Pause sparing program..."

His sharp command stopped the butler-droid in its tracks, returning from its attack position into a proper bow.

"_Combat program Volaska-Alpha-Nine in standby_," the Mark-XIII Servicebot announced. "_Would you like a cup of Jamalian tea while you wait, sir?_"

"No, busy yourself for the time being" the towering Anchallian growled as he waved the robot off before yelling to no one in particular. "Alli report!"

Before him the hologram burst into life, the slender translucent form of a vibrant young woman.

Optical pixilated bangs framed a human face and photonic blue eyes stared back at him.

She was Artificial Linguistic and Logistic Intelligence 8456239-19782 Shining Dawn 9834 Alpha, or Alli as she preferred, the primary artificial intelligence for this very ship.

"_The Faire Wind detected an unscheduled FTL event in our general vicinity_," she announced, nicking a spare strand of digital hair out of her face with delicate fingers. "_IFF is coming through but sensors can already detect massive amounts of radiation and atmosphere bleeding off into space far above safety norms. Whoever it is either has a sprung a fuel leak or heavy damage_."

Vonaka nodded as he whipped a towel across his face, clearing off the extra sweat and tossing the damp piece of fabric into the waiting Servicebot's arms.

"Spread the fleet out in a general combat formation, deploy drones to investigate the FTL event," the Admiral order as he stowed his sparing blades and threw on his uniform vest. "Order command staff to the bridge, route a general message to the other flotilla captains of the situation and put us on yellow alert."

"_Done_," she confirmed as a tight holo-screen appeared before her body displaying the fleet's current formation. "_The Dynamic Year, Andromeda Ajax and Immaculate Perception are the closest. I will order them to redeploy for interception_."

"Good," Volaska nodded as he moved from his quarters and out in the corridor, the hologram following after him. "Tell Lieutenant Moneti I want a tactical update when I reach the bridge. Captain Upsalon had the night shift correct?"

"_Affirmative, though the good captain ordered me to stay out of his way while he was on duty only fourteen times_," Alli confirmed right behind him, not really walking as her holo-projectors simply pushed her image along behind him. "_It was an anomalous command since I am the ship embodied and theoretically impossible not to be everywhere the crew could be. Luxans do not have an affinity for AI's like you do, sir_."

"Remind me to schedule him another _'AI's and Me'_ course when we get back to _New Rennasia_," Vonaka grumbled as he pushed through the hallway, young cadets, deckhands and officers rushing along with him to their positions. They gave the eight-foot tall Anchallian plenty of space, both for his command position over the crew and his towering stature.

"Any word on that IFF," he asked, just as he reached the lift to the bridge.

His question was answered just as the heavy blast door parted and a petite young woman awaited him.

"We've correlated an identification code," Ensign Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss, their primary communication officer, announced with a quick salute. "The _Running Savior_, Captain Donald Sutherland, an archeological survey vessel out of _Europa_ under ownership of the All Systems University. Last mission logged with the Department of Interstellar Scientific Exploration was a two month excursion to study archeological ruins on a planet in the Loria Quadrant."

The young woman held herself at full ready as her commanding officer entered the lift beside her, a haphazard view since Vonaka was almost twice the height of the Ityan female.

With a lurch the car began to ascend upward, carrying them to the bridge, the whistle of the rising module created as it sped through the elevator shaft played a throbbing background noise that echoed around the two officers.

"_Savior_ isn't on the local transit manifest," the Admiral said, "and the Loria Quadrant is way off course."

"_Approximately 4,005.2-light cycles, far too much to be a jump error_," Alli announced as she projected into the lift. "_Dynamic Year, Andromeda Ajax and Immaculate Perception have moved into interception position, the Regimental Hymn and Commonwealth of Tears are flanking_."

"What I wouldn't give for a full battle armada," he muttered to himself.

"_It's the frontier, sir_," the AI beside him smiled back, "_nothing worth having comes easy, especially in the Large Magellanic Cloud_."

That was true and Vonaka hated the truth sometimes.

The Large Magellanic Cloud was one of the last frontiers for the intrepid explorers of Hegemony, a satellite star cluster just a hundred and sixty-thousand light cycles outside the galactic hub of a three galaxy spanning empire. At a twenty thousand light cycles in size and primarily rich in hundreds of thousands of super giant stars, nebulas and systems still in the formative cycles, she had few habitable worlds and even those were somewhat dangerous and harsh.

Because of its inhospitable nature it took the Department of Survey, Terraforming and Colonization almost a century to finally announce limited development was beginning, though it was largely to distract the population from a slowly recovering wartime economy.

With the climatic end of the _Third Hegemony-Pryian War_ five-cycles previous, the financial market was still in recovery and reconstruction was underway over the better part of the Milky Way and Andromeda Galaxies. The prospect of a stellar cluster just outside of civilized space with no known sentient species laying claim to it had probably been the deciding factor that swayed most of the STC Department to put their stamp of approval on open colonization for the Large Magellanic Cloud before a real in depth stellar cartography scan could be preformed. Even then placing the flag of the empire was a slow and time-consuming process that was only hampered by the recent war.

The government now lacked many dedicated warships to provide necessary protection to the colonial asset that were starting to spring up all across the frontier of the Large Magellanic Cloud. Most of Space Guard forces were tied up dealing with the occupation of the former Pryian territories during its slow annexation into the Hegemony or being scuffled onto the Hegemony/Scarran border as the military buildup with the hostile reptiles continued. Those few warships the government could spare now found themselves pressed into service to take on the massive task of establishing a foothold in an alien and sometimes hostile, unknown region of space.

His vessel had been appointed flagship of this particular brigadier force in this particular quadrant and Vonaka thanked every deity he could think of for the higher ups in command for at least smarting up and not putting all of their newer warships right on the front-lines.

The _Victory of Triangular_ was one of these ships, an _Ares-_class heavy battle cruiser that had been in use by the Space Guard for only the last seven cycles. Comparable to several ships fielded by the Guard it was one of the newer designs, which was rapidly replacing many of the tried and true _Anole-_class Deep Stand-Off class destroyers that had been the military backbone of the Space Guard for so long, much to the carnage of their former captains.

But few could complain the much larger, faster and armed to the teeth chip off the block wasn't worth its weight in Neo-steel alloy, especially as it only required half the standard three thousand crewmen and resources to run as the latter did yet outperformed it in nearly all fields. Already the _Ares-_class had proven its worth in place of three _Anoles_, replacing the primary long-range combat craft of the Hegemony for the past four centuries.

At 1300-meters long and functioning with over sixteen hundred officers the _Victory_ was charged with the command of the Ninety Fifth Spineward Alpha Aeon Fleet and with the 95SpinwardαǼ combat group came seventeen other varying ships. From midsize _Justice_ class missile corvettes, a fully stocked fighter carrier, several heavy supply/support ships, a medical frigate and in a twist of irony, two _Anoles_, it was in all a small grouping of ships, more charged with aiding the defense of frontier colony worlds, providing emergency relief when needed and ensuring any aggressive extra-terrestrial species were kept at bay until a more dedicated battle armada could be called in to quell the situation.

It was one of the only dedicated fleet in the Large Magellenic Cloud, most of the active military was regaled to single frigate patrols or local planetary system pickets.

As of right now the 95SpinwardαǼ was in its standard night cycle cruise between its patrol points from the colony at _New Rennasia_ and a local pulsar five hundred light cycles out. These were the two standing navigation markers that made up the northern and eastern corners of their patrol zone, a region of seven small colonies classed as just above PEMA±P1000, primary exports mining and agrarian plus or minus populations of one thousand, two scientific facilities and an independent trade outpost run by the Merican family, a robust clan of Hynerian traders known for dancing around the line between smuggling and trading. Being as it was the early hours of the morning, based on the fleet's normal twenty-six hour timetable, the ships were holding position outside of a stellar remnant just four jumps from _New Rennasia_.

So when the proximity sensors on the support tender _Faire Wind_, the most trailing ship on the fleet's starboard side, detected a FTL event just eight hundred thousand kilometers from their position the alarms were ringing and officers were falling out of their bunks, pulling on uniforms and rushing to stations. It only took four seconds for the alert to be sounded before the main computer's subroutines kicked in and transmitted a message to its flagship, another three seconds for Alli to decrypt the alert before sounding general combat alarms to her own vessel and the fleet at large.

Hence the reason why they were now on the lift car to the bridge.

The lift door rolled out of the way and both officers plus AI found their tactical officer staring them down.

"Report!" Volaska bellowed as he pushed passed the man on his way to the command and control deck whose intense eyes made even him shiver.

"Combat crews are in position," Lieutenant Alhex Moneti reported. "All defense cannons are primed and forward plasma array is cycled. Combat patrols are on the front and alert fighters are launching, secondary squads are go in two minutes."

"Good," his commanding officer accepted. "Redeploy a fighter screen on interception but keep them in reserve until drones investigate. Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss deploy a communication drone to _Magellanic Stellar Command_ and apprise them of our situation, keep another on standby for further information."

The corridor expanded outward and the trio entered into cavernous command and control deck or bridge. Holographic screen flashed across the wall and duty officers moved rapidly between their posts, shouting orders and reading off a myriad of incomprehensible information.

It was confusion on a biblical level but was most confusing was the number of different alien species moving to and fro, all moving with purpose and wearing the same uniforms.

"What alert fighters do we have in the air?" Vonaka asked standing before the holographic Strategic Information Table.

"First Lieutenant Micalo and Major Lavari," announced the XO, Captain Donatito Upsalon, the Luxan quickly rearranged the holograms on the Situational Information Table, or SIT, to bring several new icons into existence, "both have Blue and Red Wings in the air."

"Have Red Wing provide cover," the Admiral ordered, "move non-combats out of the firing solution, Blue Wing is to lead investigate. Officer Contallia, bring our bow around, cycle main cannons."

Chief Navigation Officer Lieutenant Thamos Contallia nodded, the purple Kamarama manipulating the thrust controls to bring the massive bulk of the _Victory_ into bearing with the _Savior_. His two pairs of arms and six fingered hands easily completed the task in seconds. "Intercept course plotted," he confirmed, "ETA two light minutes from _Savior_."

"Confirmed," the Anchallian accepted before turning back towards Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss. "What was the last communication with _Savior_? Someone had to know they were so off course."

"Unknown," she reported, "as far as we know they should be at LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q excavating an archeological site in the Loria Quadrant."

"The Loria Quadrant?" Lieutenant Moneti joined Upsalon as the Luxan at his post to stare at the blinking icon that represented the _Savior_ in holographic space. "Why so far off course?"

"Inconclusive information at this time," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss answered as she attempted to contact the stricken craft. "Their main computer isn't functioning and they are not responding to any of my attempts to communicate."

"Have the _Dynamic_ and _Commonwealth_ covering our flanks," Volaska said towards Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss, "tell the others to form up behind us in a delta sphere formation. If this is a trap I want all our sides in a blanket of flak."

The eleven other combat-capable ships of the 95SpinwardαǼ formed up together with the _Victory_ at its forefront, as their support crafts corralled themselves into the center of the fleet. It was a classic measure employed when investigating an unknown contact, after many hard lessons in past encounters to ensure that someone didn't get the drop on them. Civilian ships like support tenders, medical ships and mobile shipyards stayed safely together while vigilant destroyers, cruisers and frigates surrounded them.

While immense in size, the action of the _Victory_ and its companions pulling into a proper formation was a quick motion as the anti-gravity fields and omni-directional thrusters of the fleet allowed them to move as nimble as dolphins in the ocean. She and her escorts, the _Dynamic_ _Year _and _Commonwealth of Tears_, two _Anoles_ of the soon to be replaced class, plowed to the forefront of the armada.

What they were heading for was unknown to them...

* * *

The office was huge, possibly larger than the ground floor of her entire house and most of the backyard combined. It was a gross overcompensation of space, such a large area, vaulted glass ceilings and beautiful view of downtown Caprica City yet other than a few books selves, a desk and the chair she currently occupied the entirely room was entirely and unnervingly empty.

It was too much, far to clean and stale for her taste.

Her pondering of distaste was interrupted as a far off door opened and the doctor entered. His footsteps boomed in the cavernous room and even from a distance she tried to gauge the neutral expression his face held.

Sitting down in the desk chair across from her, he cleared his throat, shuffled his papers and that was the first hint to Laura he was stalling.

"We've found a lump," he waited just a beat for the news to sink in before going on. "Without surgery, it's impossible to know for certain, but I can tell you that statistically, 93% of these types of masses do turn out to be malignant. Miss Roslin... are you listening... are you alright?"

Her gaze had faltered after his first declaration, instead un-focusing on the doctor and drifting off to look out the window.

"Treatment?" she asked, not even bothering to glance at him as it came out more as a groan then a statement.

"The conventional approach is intensive radiation therapy," the way he said it meant he really didn't believe it was worth anything really. "But there are several promising new drug therapies that will soon be approved for human testing. But from all our estimates it looks to be terminal-"

She rose up from her chair, gathered up her coat and her bag and turned to leave.

He was just stalling for time... time that apparently she didn't have any more.

"Excuse me, I have a meeting to catch," that was the only excuse she could come up with, even as the doctor tried to call out after her…

* * *

Dozens of smaller vessels circled the 95SpinwardαǼ, fighters of varying design created a combat air patrol or CAP for immediate, on site protection. Joining them _Oracle_ heavy sensor attack drones, _Janus_ light strike probes and _Odin_ combat droids orbited the perimeter of battle-group to perform their duty as first defender and early warning system of the 95SpinwardαǼ.

Splitting from that protective sphere, six_ Skin-divers_, the main space combat fighter for the Space Guard, raced away from the safe cover fire of the fleet and roared out into the expansive void beyond.

_Skin-divers_ were the first choice for many combat pilots in the Space Guard these days. The sleek ships, shaped like a raptor bird in flight, were best known for having a top of the line inertia damper and a multilateral engine, letting the _Skin-diver_ make turns of almost any degree in less than a second. They were one of the first ships capable of completing a pin point ninety degree turn at half the speed of light without tearing itself apart or liquefying the pilot. After proving that they could fly circles around other early fighter class literally, they had quickly replaced all previous designs in less than fifty cycles and were quickly working their way down to civilian security groups.

At full burn they rapidly approached the drifting _Savior_ in barely thirty seconds from their original departure.

"This is Red One," Lavari's gruff voice came through on the main speakers on the bridge even if she was several hundred thousand meters away, "I have visual on the _Savior_. She's taken heavy damage to her outer hull, I can see multiple breaches and my sensors are detecting oxygen venting into space. Recommend a Biosquad be detached ASAP and dock the ship as quickly as possible. "

"Understood Red One," Admiral Volaska acknowledged. "Captain contact the _Lancers Hope_, she is large enough to dock a ship the size of the _Savior _safely," turning away from his executive officer he moved towards Alli, who was studying the miniature holo-image of the _Savior_ on the SIT intently. "How big was that ship's crew?"

"_Crew manifest notes two hundred and seven sentient individuals and fifty non-sentient automatons_," she explained, a small holographic screen appeared before the AI, the data scrolling down to show individual names. "_Sentients vary_ _from twenty six different member worlds, eight protectorates and four allied nations, most native to oxygen nitrogen mixed atmospheres_."

Understanding that even haft that number would be too much for the basic medical facilities on the _Hope_ the Admiral was quick to solve the problem. "Get the _Delirium_ on the line and have them shuttle over four triage teams and a surgical unit. Doctor Xianextnucatoital and his team will meet them."

"On it," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss nodded as she pressed a communication pod into her elf like ears and repeated the command to the only dedicated medical ship in the fleet, the _Quantum Tractate Delirium._ "_Delirium_ this is the _Victory_, looks like we could use some healers on the _Hope_. Move out four triage teams and a surgical unit quick, Doctor Xianextnucatoital will meet you there."

The reply was immediate.

"_We hear you,_ _Victory_," Captain Choc'Colgate and Chief Surgeon for the _Delirium_, confirmed, "_triage teams one through four are on the way_."

"Good," Vonaka said as he turned to regard the holographic outline of the _Savior_ above the SIT console, "now let's just hope there's someone alive to tell us what the hell happened..."

* * *

"Make a hole!" Kara yelled as she ran through the group of tourists.

She couldn't help but crack a smile as the bewildered group quickly scattered to give her space, though she grumbled on the inside for the reason they were here in the first place.

Why the frak did they have to have them onboard anyways? The decommission ceremony was still a ways off and until then this was a military ship, her ship.

Kara sailed through them with little concern if she knocked one out of the way, to Lieutenant Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace that would have been the high point of her day.

"Form follows function," the tour guide continued onward after his unwarranted interruption. "Nowhere is this axiom of design more readily apparent than on board the worlds famous _Battlestar Galactica_. This ship, the last of her kind still in service, was constructed over fifty years ago during the early days of the Cylon War. Originally, there were twelve _Battlestars_, each representing one of Kobol's Twelve Colonies. _Galactica_ represented _Caprica_ and was first commanded by..."

Kara left the mini-history lesson behind and continued on with her morning jog, trying with considerable effort to put those words out of her head.

Last of her class... last to be reduced to mothballs and obscurity.

The _Galactica_ was a first generation _Colombia_-class long-rang combat carrier _Battlestar_, third off the assembly lines during the early days of the Cylon War after the _Battlestar Athena_ and the class' namesake, the _Battlestar Colombia_, were launched right into combat. She was comprised of three sections, the foremost being her alligator shaped head, and designed to be the safest part of the ship with the heaviest armor, which contained water storage tanks, numerous command functions and the CIC. Next to that were the mid-ship areas which held crew quarters, support systems and ammunition, branching off into the flight pods and the stern section, ending in the six sub-light engines and the FTL drives.

During standard operations the flight pods were kept fully extended away from the main hull to maximize safety for landing fighters and shuttles. Being that it held numerous _Vipers_, _Raptors_ and fueling facilities to support those ships the volatile chance that a crash could set off secondary explosions in the pods was high. This prompted its designers to keep them a distance from the crew areas but during combat to minimize their dradis profile and decrease their overall size for FTL-jumps, the flight pods could be retracted at a moment's notice.

_Battlestars_ like the _Galactica_ were intended for operation over a long period of time without re-supplying, its water purification capabilities alone were so efficient that the average _Battlestar_ could operate for years before needing to replenish her supplies. Large scale repairs following battle damage and ammunition assembly from the armory was also something with in their crew's range, meaning that _Galactica_ was a self-sufficient warship in most categories.

It was this independence that had kept _Galactica_ out of the decommissioning racket for so long.

At its height the Colonies had built and maintained over eighteen of these behemoths, even if production stopped barely a decade after the war ended the fact that the _Colombia_-class _Battlestar_ was designed for deep space deployment far from resupply meant that it took only until three-years ago for Command to decide to finally start to retire the old girls.

_Galactica_'s independence could only get her so far and for the rest she made up for it in prestige. The _Battle of Cosmora Archipelago, Operation Talon, Siege of Molecay_, even the _Massacre at Cimtar_ had seen _Galactica_ rising to do battle with the murderous Cylons and winning every time.

That was probably why she wasn't going to the wrecking yards to be broken up like most of the _Colombia_-class had been. Instead she was heading for a far worse fate.

_Galactica_ was to become a museum ship.

At least her sister ships were being put to some good use, having their smelter hulls reused in newer _Battlestar_-classes or being upgraded to the sleeker and far larger fourth generation _Colombias_. Being torn apart as scrap and rebuilt into a new warship sounded so much better than having shrill school teachers and snot-nose kids wandering her halls.

She was once the shining star of the Colonial navy during the first days of the Cylon War. Now the _Colombia_-class was being phased out in favor of the more powerful _Mercury's,_ less resource consuming _Hood_-class and the new juggernaut of the Colonial Fleet, the _Warriorstar_.

The guns were now silent, the shining star had fallen.

Even her personnel were starting to dwindle as crew members disembarked, never to return, for replacements that were never going to come. At full combat readiness a _Colombia_-class _Battlestar_ like _Galactica_ was crewed by over four thousand officers.

Now she had barely half that onboard, just hovering above a combat skeleton crew. But today the empty halls were filled with officers, enlisted and civilians, all working hard to make this _Battlestar's_ final days her best.

Down the corridor Thrace continued her run, out of ear shot of the annoying and stuttering tour guide and straight past her commanding officer.

Commander William Adama was a man in his late fifties, with a weathered, ragged appearance and iron-grey hair. He wore a simple day uniform with a minimum of insignia, his clothes well-used and rumpled. The best persona of a man that seem preoccupied by the stack of papers he held in his hand.

"The Cylon Was is long over," he repeated a few times, working the words over in his head as if they just didn't seem right. "Yet, we must not forget the reasons why so many sacrificed so much in the cause of liberty..."

"Morning, sir!" Starbuck greeted as she jogged in place next to a man she considered closer to her then any father, lover and brother could ever be.

"Morning Starbuck!" he nodded back to her, never taking his eyes from the speech, "Whaddya hear?"

"Nothing but the rain," Thrace countered, not missing a beat of their personal inside joke.

A smirk spread over Adama's lips. "Then grab you gun and bring the cat home."

Starbuck ran backwards as she mimicked a set of guns with her hands, continuing to move on down the hallway to continue her jog. Her place was however quickly occupied by the younger eager to please tactical officer of the Galactica, Lieutenant Felix Gaeta.

"Morning sir," the young man nodded as he greeted from his commanding officer. "Comm traffic from the midwatch."

"Morning," Commander Adama greet his tactical officer, "anything interesting?

"Mostly housekeeping," Gaeta conceded as he rummaged through the stack of mid-morning messages. "Oh, there is one odd message we were copied on. The one from Fleet headquarters. Courier officer's overdue coming back from _Armistice Station_. They're asking for a status report on all FTL capable ships in case they need someone to jump out there tomorrow and see if his ship had a mechanical problem."

"I think we're a little busy tomorrow," Adama answered, "Mr. Gaeta. What do you think?

The Lieutenant nodded at the obvious breach of command but considering that today was the last week of active duty for the _Galactica_, he found it more humorous then anything. Even if the _Galactica_ did report it status as free the chance that Colonial Command would order a _Battlestar_ that hadn't jumped in twenty years onto a mission was as likely as the Cylons attack tomorrow.

With a nod at his Commander Gaeta moved off to report the _Galactica's_ prior commitment, right into the throng of tourists and their guide right around the corner.

"You'll see things here that look odd, even antiquated to modern eyes," his familiarity to the _Battlestar_ was impeccable, just like his crisply printed; hand written name tag that read Aaron Doral. "Phones with cords, awkward manual valves, computers that barely deserve the name. But all of it is intentional. It's all designed to operate in combat against an enemy who could infiltrate and disrupt all but the most basic computer systems. Of course, those attitudes have changed through the years and _Galactica_ is something of a relic. A reminder of a time when we were so frightened by the capabilities of our enemies that we literally looked backward for protection. Modern _Battlestars_ resemble _Galactica_ only in the most superficial ways..."

The tour group continued down the corridor as their lesson on Cylon-era _Battlestars_ continued, unaware of the terror that was going to befall them...

* * *

"_Biosquad Alpha-1, you are clear for launch on vector five-one-one in sixty seconds_," Alli announced over the loudspeakers of the _Victory's_ landing bay. Mechanics, grease monkeys, pilots and engineers rushed back and forth as they prepped the only active shuttle on the deck for launch.

"Roger that Alli," Chief Engineer Hendal Kruxal confirmed as the AI appeared in holographic form next to him, his four jaw mandibles clicking as he spoke, "squad is loading now. Deployment is on mark."

"_Savior is venting atmosphere at dangerous levels_," Alli added as she crossed her translucent arms, graphs and information appeared in front of her body to emphasize the data to Hendal. "_At the current rate of loss she will be out of oxygen in thirty minutes_."

"Then it's good that I am here!"

Neither the eight foot six Sangheili engineer nor the warship AI had any time to take notice of a man in the green and black uniform of a Biosquad Captain rushed past them.

The Emergency Biological Search and Rescue Squadron or Biosquad as it had been nicknamed more than a thousand cycles ago, was the fast action team in the 95SpinwardαǼ to deal with emergency space-based accidents. Back then the colony of _Haql_, a small settlement located along the _Tigrannakert Trade Route_, was the sight of numerous shipping accidents. The region it inhabited was prone to massive gravitational disturbances and freak ion-magnetic storms, along with a nominal dash of pirates in the sector. But that didn't stop the hundreds of ships that used the interstellar highway every day.

While the colony's medical facilities were more than adequate to take on nearly any form of common injury and a fair bit of the uncommon kind, they still noted that eighty-five percent of their patients died in route to their center due to lack of medical training among the rescue pilots. Their crews had no specifically designed ships for rapid deployment and attachment to damaged crafts, along with a lack of onsite medics treating patients outside their home environments.

So _Haql _spent cycles perfecting a program to deal with their situation by retraining a colonial defense fighter squad to fly an out of date salvage ship modified with an engine five times most powerful then any ship its size could handle. It was insane, dangerous, irresponsible and the result was the renowned _Haql _Biosquads, working so well that causality rates among inbound patients dropped to a meager five percent.

The concept was soon exported to the point where Biosquads became one of the most widespread and powerful space-based organizations second to the Space Guard. Every world with high traffic volumes over a hundred thousand transients a day was assigned at least one squad and fleets like the 95SpinwardαǼ, being in charge of the protection of an entire quadrant of several thousand, had two Biosquads on call for a moment's notice.

And right now one of those groups was in action.

Captain Dwight Grissom Anderson was the officer in charge of the 95SpinwardαǼ Biosquad, specifically the eight members of Alpha-1 Squad that served under him. Pulling the visor down on his helmet he ducked inside the hatch of rescue shuttle _Cattalo-Seven-Nine-Nine_, a _Demos_ Class Rapid Deployment shuttle, as the last officer onboard.

"We're clear!" he roared to the pilots at the front of the ship, his helmet barely muffling his thick Lunar accent. "Hit it!"

He had just enough time to strap himself into his seat as the main airlock slammed shut. Like most ships used by the Biosquad the _Cattalo's_ pilot and copilot threw most preflight checks out the window, outside of the most necessary needs to get the ship moving. In front of the cockpit windows the maw of space opened up and both officers waited for the thumbs up that everyone was stowed by the unit leader and began the final countdown.

"Charge impulse drive to full," Captain Lianeg Ot ordered as he finished his final preparations for launch.

His copilot Lieutenant Nexo Xirtam did as he was told, "Impulse drive to full, magnetic catapult is locked, flight control is giving us the green."

"Good," Ot accepted before turning back towards the team strapped into the back. "Hang on ladies, gentleman, transgender and undecided… this is going to be a bumpy ride!"

Using a magnetic catapult the sleek hawk shaped shuttle was locked into place and then thrown violently forward. The stars blurred as the shuttle vaulted out in space, the internal dampeners and artificial gravity did little to compensate for the crushing thrust the ship used to gain maximum speed.

The _Savior_ quickly began to fill the forward view port, a hammerhead shark like face held to a tight neck before terminating in a boxy drive section. Right now most of the drive section was smoking as the engine coils vented overheated drive plasma into airless void and most of the forward sections were blown away, a terribly jagged hole made the face of the vessel appear as if someone had taken a bite right out of her hull.

She had taken a beating and Anderson had to whistle at the damage she had endured and still was flying.

Time was critical, with her compromised hull the science ship was venting atmosphere at an alarming rate. If something wasn't done soon she'd bleed out her life sustaining oxygen in a short while or worse yet, if one bulkhead bulked under the pressure the entire crash could implode from explosive decompression.

"Bringing us along-side her port docking port now," Captain Ot announced as the shuttle came into locking position with the _Savior's_ left side.

"Establishing hard seal," the copilot confirmed, "your clear for boarding!" he yelled back to the Biosquad.

They needed little encouragement as helmets were sealed, packs were strapped and they pressed through the tiny airlock of the _Cattalo_ and a massive docking tube that could probably hold said shuttle.

Security officers Lieutenant Junior Grade Pigma Krut and Ensign Motar Wutter'nun were the first inside and with plasma rifles in hand as they scanned the immediate deck area before clearing the remaining five officers to move into the destroyed corridor.

"Atmosphere's clear but radiation levels are spiking," Krut noted as she/he passed an environmental sensor through the air with one hand and kept her/his plasma rifle leveled in the other.

"Helmets off," Anderson allowed, "but keep 'em close in case of a heavy rad spike."

The air smelled like ozone and ash, obvious leftovers from the burning of various materials across the ship. Radiation warning were still low inside the hull, the metallic shell had kept the worse out, but it was bad enough that prolonged exposure could require several days in a nano-bath before even the strongest person would be up and about again.

If any of them had lived.

They all followed standard boarding protocol, weapons drawn and actively searching for any signs of life. One end of the hallway was lost to a collapsed structural beam, making a search in that direction impossible until the shipwrights on the _Hope_ could pull it apart safely.

The other end terminated in large set of cargo doors.

Emergency backup power must have still been active because as they approached the motion sensor on massive bay doors activated and the barrier slide open. Thoughts of curious exploration or the wondering if anyone had survived the wreck were in seconds replaced by another feeling as each member of the team was calling on every bit of training to keep their collective stomachs in check.

Bodies… everywhere.

"Poor souls," Lieutenant Ulla Lioi, their medic, shook her head in grief as she regard the carnage, passing the sensor between one her eight arms as she pulled another device from her belt to make notes on, "they must have tried to seek protection in here."

More than two-dozen bodies were strewn over the floor of what appeared to be a cargo hold, all seemed to be burned in varying degrees. Most were civilians, dressed in now stained white jumpsuits and tarnished lab coats. People who had chosen a quiet life of books and higher pursuits over bloody fighting. They were never trained to deal with such catastrophes.

"Main photo-plasma conduit blew out," Tyson, their resident engineering specialist, said as he shown his arm-light towards the massive crater on the nearby wall. "Took out the entire inner wall and emergency shut offs must of sealed the bay. No oxygen coming in and the fire burning up the rest, whoever survived would suffocate in minutes."

Ulla was the first to venture deeper into the room, running her medical scanner over each body she could find. "Scans show no discernable heat, bio-signs or neural signatures," the towering Bosalisk announced grimly. "They're all dead."

"Let's move on to the next room," the captain ordered. "Tyson and Ulla, tag the bodies and follow."

Moving beyond the bay they found themselves in another corridor, this one not as gut wrenching but still as bad. Three bodies, each seeming to have fallen in mid-stride.

Anderson examined the first two, a set of female Kalish, their golden-white skins marred by dozens of burns and lacerations, pasty cream colored blood pooling around them. The other was once a Tenctonese male, now missing everything below his waist.

Whatever had hit the _Savior_ had been quick, slow enough to give some a chance to hide but fast enough that she had lost some personnel in the act.

He tried not to pay attention to the three open eyes staring back at him from the ground, they were trained to forget the dead and focus on the living. If they became preoccupied, they'd become sloppy and sloppy rescuers get people killed.

The corridor narrowed, giving space to a series of labs, not a surprising feature for a science vessel.

"Check the rooms, cover formation," the Captain ordered. "One goes in, two keep point. No one separates!"

* * *

"_Galactica_, _Viper 450_," the _Viper_ spun end over end as it aligned itself with the approaching flight-pod. "_Beam acquisition lock_."

From his position inside the port landing bay flight control booth, Captain Aaron Kelly monitored his instruments as the rapidly approaching Viper began its final approach. Taking a grease pen, he ticked off another one of the landing planes on the nearby landing roster board.

He slide on his headset and began to feed the approaching fighter its proper landing vectors, trying not to pay any attention to the tour group that had crammed into the back of the landing control booth.

"A logical question to ask is why in this day and age," the tour guide advised his group of charges as they all tried to crane their necks to see the approaching fighter, "do we have men and women in the cockpit at all? Why not automate the _Vipers_ or rely on unmanned missiles for defense?"

"_Viper 450, Galactica_," Kelly tapped the button on his headphones and began to relay his proper coordinates. "Copy your acquisition lock. Stand-by landing clearance."

"_Standing by_," the pilot confirmed.

"The answer, of course," Doral continued with his explanation, "is that an automated Viper would be susceptible to possible jamming or cyber-attack. There's a saying in the Colonial fleet that you can jam every sensor except the human brain."

"_Viper 450, Galactica_," the Captain communicated over his mic. "_Approach port landing bay, hands-on, speed one zero five, checkers red, call the ball_.

"_Galactica, check that_," the flyer's voice was filled with confusion. "_Did you say hands-on approach_?"

"_Viper 450_, _that's affirmative_," Aaron nodded, even if he knew the pilot was several hundred meters away and in no way able to see him. "_Hands-on approach_."

"_Very well_," the man relented. "_Port landing bay, hands-on, speed one zero five, checkers red, I have the ball_."

Racing towards the port flight-pod, the _Viper_ oriented itself to the linear plane of the approaching land-strip. Reverse thruster fired, the acceleration began to lighten up and like a bird was dropping into its nest, the fighter rolled into position. Skids ground for a second as the extra inertia was worked off but it lasted almost nothing as the _Viper_ came to rest in a square of red checkers.

_"Viper 450_, skids down, mag-lock secure," Kelly confirmed as he locked the ship into position. "On behalf of everyone aboard _Galactica_, I'd like to welcome you aboard, Apollo. It's an honor to have you with us."

"_Thank you, Galactica_," the pilot expressed over the wireless, just long enough for Kelly to see him give the Captain a thumb up before the elevator below the fighter began to lower the _Viper_ down onto the hanger deck.

Down the long shaft the Viper fell, the overhead airlocks sliding closed and the cool vapors of atmosphere seeping down around the craft, replacing the cold death of space with something a bit more manageable.

After a few long moments the final airlock slide back and the fighter was lowered onto the cavernous hanger deck. As he descended numerous other _Vipers_ were being services, a few _Raptors_ and even a shuttle inter-spliced between the mix as the deckhands, mechanics and pilots scattered themselves in intensive work.

The elevator came to a halt and after a brief pause to confirm a breathable atmosphere was made to satisfy his onboard computer, the cockpit lid rolled back and the cool air of _Galactica's_ atmosphere rolled in. It felt good, even if it did taste like dust mixed with sweat.

Lifting himself out of his seat and feeling the morbidly enjoyable feeling of his joints popping and muscles unclenching, he stepped out on his fighter's wings and down the set of stairs that were quickly placed near his feet for a quick descent.

"Morning, sir," a man in an obnoxious orange jump suit approach him, slicking off a pair of grease covered gloves as he approached. "Chief Tyrol, I'll be your crew chief while you're aboard."

"Morning, Chief," the pilot nodded, removing his long airtight helmet from his flight suit and handed it over to the deckhand. "Captain Lee Adama."

"Real pleasure to meet you, sir," the man smiled as he took the head covering and quickly passed it off to one of his many deckhands. "I'm sure you've heard this before, but I'm a great admirer of your father's. The service is going to miss him when retires."

He didn't see the flash of annoyance or anguish on the man's face, but still he managed a fake 'Thanks' to the helpful Chief.

"I'm sure someone will," Lee muttered himself, loud enough for Tyrol to catch his tone and visibly frown at that casual dig. "Is your auto-landing system down? I was hands-on for the whole approach."

"They're all hands-on here, Captain," the Chief explained, though his tone wasn't nearly as friendly as it had been before. "No auto-landings on _Galactica_. Commander Adama's orders."

"Figures," Lee again mumbled but knowing his sour disposition wasn't going to garner any points among the deck crew he decided to change the subject. "Watch the rad-buffers when you chock the burner. These new mark sevens run a little hotter than the ones you're used to."

"Watch the rad-buffers, yes sir," the Chief nodded, pulling out his clipboard and moving off to begin the post-flight check of the _Viper_ as the Captain moved off to the pilots ready room.

_"Attention on the Port Hangar Deck," _the overhead comms rang out as Adama made his departure._ "Raptor on final approach, clear red checkers. Prepare for hot landing. Repeat prepare for a Boomer landing."_

Back in the landing signal office Captain Kelly was not a happy man. He was just as happy that the frakking tour group was finally gone but that reprieve was only a short sense of freedom before he was faced with an even worse problem.

Boomer was coming in for a landing.

Unlike the smooth acrobatics of the _Viper's_ landing, the incoming _Raptor_ was cutting a dangerous, jagged, jerky approach to the landing bay.

"_Raptor 312, Galactica_," He shouted as the _Raptor_ began to drift too wildly out of its proper landing pattern. 'Watch your lateral attitude! You're skidding! You're skidding!

_"Galactica, Raptor 312, understood," _shouted Sharon 'Boomer' Valerii as she violently pushed her bird back position._ "I have the ball."_

Coming in hard, the bottom skids connected with the deck. With the inertia running through her frame and the uneven course Boomer had chosen, ended up sending the Raptor into a violently, screaming run across the flight-pod.

But somehow she managed to pull the craft into the red checker square on the far side of the flight deck.

"_Raptor 312_, skids down, mag-lock secure," Kelly tried to keep his voice leveled but still he couldn't keep the edge out of his words as he began to lock the _Raptor_ down. "Welcome home, Boomer."

"_Thank you, Galactica," _Boomer sighed over the comms.

Kelly wasted no time in getting the small ship in place before activated the elevator and began the process of lowering it down onto the hanger deck.

Laying down on the hangar deck the maintenance crews waited just long enough for the thrusters to cool before heading in, trying to stay away from the glowing red skids on the bottom of the vessel.

"I think they heard that landing clear up to the bridge, Lieutenant," Chief Tyrol commented as he took the helmet a visibly annoyed Boomer handed over, as the young woman descended from her ship.

"Yeah, I'm gonna catch hell from the LSO," she gripped tightly on the edge of the wing and hauled herself down. "But it wasn't entirely my fault, Chief. The primary gimbals' acting up again."

"Uh, huh," the Chief didn't seem too convinced by her excuse.

"Helo!" She shouted back to her co-pilot who was hauling himself down onto the deck, "am I lying?

"Gimbals looked bad to me," Karl 'Helo' Agathon smirked as he handed his helmet off.

"I've pulled that gimbals three times and stripped it twice," Tyrol argued right back. "There's nothing wrong with it, sir."

She barely paid them any attention as she started off across the deck, the Chief waited barely heart beat before he followed after her.

"And I'll have you know I listen very closely to what each and every pilot has to say about their ship," he called out as she continued to weave her way across the hanger deck and never once looked back at him to show if she really cared. "Even the rooks."

"Okay, so I'm a rooky," Sharon shot right back at him, the first time she actually looked back this time which meant his quickly hidden quip had struck home. "You're not the one out there trying to bring fifty tons of Raptor onto a moving hangar deck with bad gimbals..."

But he wasn't finished. "I've got ten years experience-"

"Here we go," Sharon threw her arms up as she listened to another one of his '_I have more experience_' speeches.

"-breaking down and stripping every component in every system," they moved inside of his work room, he reached out and absently hauled the heavy steel door closed behind him, "that's ever been installed in every spacecraft on my hangar deck."

Turning about Sharon waited for the door to slam close and fixed Tyrol with a glance.

"You done," just a nod and then she threw herself at him.

Lips met and everything from the landing to the flight deck work dissolved into only passion.

Pulling back, breathless from having her lungs nearly sucked out of her body, Sharon smirked at her lover before finally saying, "That gimbals is broken..."

"Shut up..."

* * *

"Secretary Roslin?"

She looked up at the call of her official title, a little lost in thought but quickly focusing in on the middle aged man approaching her. It took only moments for him to reach her and only moments for her to notice the bags under his eyes, the loosened tie around his neck, the mess that had once been a very expensive hair cut.

"Naylin Stans from the education alliance," he reached out and shook her hand, a little tighter then she liked but still Laura managed a smile at him. "You said you wanted to talk?"

The man didn't waste any time on small talk and after all her time in politics, Laura secretly enjoyed it.

"Yes," she nodded as she gestured for him to take a seat next to her, Naylin cautiously sat down on the concrete bench beside her. "I'm sorry for the rush, Mr. Stans..."

"I have to admit, I was surprised to get your message," the man sighed, the look in his eyes hinted at both worry and guarded reservation.

"The President will be surprised I sent it," Laura grinned at him, hoping her mild joke would help to lighten the man's mood.

"Once our chief negotiator got a billy-club to the head," Stans however failed to notice the joke, a scowl forming on his face, "we figured Adar's government had written us off as a lost cause.

"I was a teacher long before I was secretary of education," Laura took a more empathetic route, hoping to gain some commonality from him, "and causes are only lost when we give up."

"Madame Secretary?" Naylin ventured a question, suddenly adverting his eyes like a school child in trouble. "Considering the stakes, Adar doesn't seem particularly engaged with the idea of backing our demands."

"The stakes are what we decide to make them, Mr. Stans," she assured him. "If the President uses troops to enforce us back to work order, people will get hurt. Even die."

"Some causes are worth dying for," he let that threat hang in the air for a bit, hoping to gain some kind of ground on her.

"Not this one," she declared, not willing to back down. "Not if you want me to bring your concerns directly to President Adar himself."

That was enough to stun Naylin into silence.

"You're serious?" he had to ask, just to make sure he wasn't really hallucinating after all those hours of missed sleep.

"Without a doubt," Laura smirked at him. "But if you want to settle this, your people have to disengage. No more civil disobedience, no more acts of violence. I want our students back in school without teachers sporting black eyes and broken arms."

"Done," Stans nodded in agreement. "You get us a meeting with him before next week and I'll make sure my people stay in line… I'm glad you called, Madame Secretary. We were starting to think the President was going to arrest us all."

"I know it's a lot," Laura said, "but if we want a future for these Colonies, we have to fight for what we believe in…"

* * *

She ran her fingers across the edges of the cards, feeling the crisp paper under her fingers as the hot burn of the cigar in her lips puffed a steady stream of smoke onto the colorful hexagons.

Around the table the other pilots stared her down, the mid-watch break had left them all antsy for some entertain. They were expecting her next move, trying to gauge exactly where she was headed next in this game of wits and luck.

But she preferred to go with the unexpected, it was just more her style.

"I'll take two," she tossed a pair of yellow cards onto the table and quickly snatched another from the pile. "Your move, Colonel."

"'_Starbuck,_'" Tigh rolled the words over for a good while, as he took a deep swig of his coffee mug. "Now there's a call sign... Starbuck... How'd you get that nickname, anyway? Never did hear the full story. Was it before you got thrown in the brig as a cadet for drunk and disorderly or after?"

Slowly pulling the cigar from her lips, she gave him a hard look. "After."

"After... that's right, it was after," the Colonel nodded as he tossed a few cubits onto the growing stack of winnings in the center of the table. "Thirty and thirty more."

The other players shot some worried glances around the table, knowing the starts of a classic Tigh/Thrace exchange about to happen. It was just easier to stay quiet, heads down and ready for what frakking mess was going to follow.

"How's the wife?" Kara casually asked.

The room, not just around the playing table but in the entire pilot's ready room. Glances shot between the pilots, each one trying to get where the conversation was going to go next.

"Just fine," Saul said evenly.

"Talk to her lately?" Starbuck again pressed onward, not fear or restraint holding her back.

"Bet's to you, Lieutenant," he stared over his cards at her, the look hard and not giving a single hint that he was going to back down from this fight.

"No rank at the table, Colonel," she ground the end of her smoke between her teeth. "Tradition and all that. So, another thirty to me. Well, I think I'll just have to bring this lovely evening to a close."

She tossed her cards onto the table and with a glee filled grin announced the verdict.

"Full colors!" she laughed.

"That's five hands in a row," Tigh gave her a hard, deathly glare.

"Is it?" Kara wondered as she began to rake in her winnings.

"No one's that lucky, Thrace," the man accused in a deep and raspy hiss.

"Luck has nothing to do with it," the pilot giggled, her eyes glittering from all the easily won cubits now falling through her fingers.

"That's right," Saul repeated menacingly. "No luck at all."

Starbuck stopped in her actions, in all movements save to meet the Colonel's eyes.

"You have something to say," Kara stated darkly, "say it."

There was a beat, everyone in the whole room was tense and froze as they waited for what was to come next.

Tigh was up first, knocking over the table in one sweep of his arms... but it was Kara's who got the first shot in. Connecting with the side of the Colonel first...

* * *

The knock was short, crisp and he knew who it was before the large doors were creaking open.

" Laura," he grinned as she coasted into his office, rising to come around his desk to admire the creamy pink dress and sports coat she was wearing. "I didn't I'd see you before your flight today."

"Richard," she couldn't help but smile, his voice just managed to put butterflies into her stomach every time. "I-"

Before she could finish her sentence his lips were crashing onto his, pressing hard and tight for just long enough to leave her without breath and several degrees hotter then she preferred.

"I know," he breathed, finally pulling away and unwrapping his hands from around her waist. "You've been thinking this is a mistake for a while now."

He winked at her with that boyish grin, those cool eyes, all full of suave and charm…

She had the sudden urge to punch him and she didn't know why.

"I just met with Stans," she blurted out, better to say it up front before her mouth was incapable of words again. "The education alliance is going to back off."

Several different shade of red exploded onto Richard's cheeks and his lips turned into a sour frown.

"Back off?" he hissed, pulling away from her suddenly like she was on fire. "Laura, what did you give them?"

"I made them a promise that we would seriously hear out their grievances, Richard," she shrugged, wandering to the windows of the massive room, not able to make eye contact with the man. "I thought you'd be happy they're going back to work."

"Laura," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as a sudden headache began to blossom in his head, "you've put me in a very awkward position."

"I don't see how," she rounded on him, not believing his little act of playing the victim. "Both sides gave ground."

"It's not just about your teachers," Richard threw up his hands in disgust, not able to believe how blind she was to the bigger picture… that only he could see. "It's the next strike I'm worried about. You just showed them that if they hold out long enough, this administration will cave."

For a long while his words hung in the air and Laura seethed when she realized what he was implying.

"You expected me to fail," she could barely hold the outrage in her voice at bay.

"I expected you to hold the line against a party that has repeatedly threatened this administration!" he paced the floor like a caged animal, running down any number of ways he could get out of this situation he had been thrust into.

"Mister President," she emphasized those words, getting across that they were no longer two people involved in a steamy affair but government officials with separate ideals. "We should at least speak with the strikers before sending in the troops. They're teachers, not terrorists."

" They're acting like thugs!" Richard shouted at her like a belligerent child. "Their last demonstration put two policemen in the hospital. Six of them have chained themselves outside the Hall of Education. As far as I'm concerned, they're criminals."

"Their pay is substandard, their schools are falling apart," she shot right back, unwilling to be driven away like some coward from what was right. "The strike action has been gaining momentum for months and you know that. It's already spread to _Tauron_ and _Virgon_ too. I don't understand why we're not at least talking to them before it spreads more!"

"One of the most interesting things about being President," his voice was low and dangerous, "is that you don't have to explain yourself... to anyone. You've already set a meeting with Stans, haven't you?"

"Obviously," she looked away, suddenly interested in the courtyard below.

"Obviously our relationship has convinced you that you have more power in this administration then you really do," Richard sighed as he paced the floor between his desk and her, finally coming to some bright conclusion that put a smile in his lips and a sense of dread in Laura. "You can stay on in an advisory capacity. Gods know we need your ideas."

She was stunned for a good ten seconds before she mustered a reply.

"You're asking me to resign?" it wasn't implied but even an idiot could pick up on that one.

"I don't have any choice," he rounded on her as if she nothing. "This isn't about you and me anymore."

"You're right, it's not," Laura nodded, never once hinting that she had taken any true offense to the matter. "You were willing to attack those people and up until a few hours ago, I was prepared to let you… I am on my way to the _Galactica_ to represent this administration. When I return, if you still want my job, be prepared to fight…"

* * *

"_This is Caprica 5 News_," the wide-screen promo played over the high definition monitor, cheesy music of a cheap orchestra in the background, "_bringing you news from all across the Twelve Colonies_."

Flashing a well-practiced smile at the camera, Kellan Brody was the picture perfect woman for the daily news. Finely tailored suit, hair kept short but curled and she was just old enough to be taken professionally but young enough to garner the male demographic.

"For those of you just joining us from the Pyramid game on _Gemenon_, welcome to The Spotlight," she grinned as she shuffled her well-planned but unneeded script on her desktop. "Our weekly interview program devoted to people making news on _Caprica_. Today we're talking with Doctor Gaius Baltar."

From the comfort of his beautiful lakeside house, Gaius laid back against the pleasant cream fabric of his living room couch. He was a bit over thirty, finally dressed and will a full head of long, obsidian hair. Yet the ego, his utter self-interest, seemed to seethe right off him.

"Although he has won three Magnate Prizes in the course of his distinguished career," Kellan made sure her dimples were showing at the right angle for the camera before continuing on, "he is perhaps best known for his controversial views on advanced computer technology which have earned him stinging condemnation from several leading conservative publications as well as something approaching cult figure status on many college campuses. Dr. Baltar welcome again."

"Thank you, Kellan," Gaius grinned at the young woman, even if she was several dozen miles away during this entire interview. "It's a pleasure to be here."

"Before the break," Kellan jumped right back into their previous discussion with avid interest, "we were discussing your latest opinion piece in the Caprican Daily News where you advocate the resumption of research into artificial intelligence. Could you summarize your position for our new viewers?

"I'd be happy to," Baltar beamed, more than thrilled to declare his opinion on his most beloved topic. "My position is very simple... the ban on research and development of artificial intelligence is a hold-over from the Cylon Wars. I believe the ban is outdated and serves no useful purpose except to retarding efforts to solve many of the problems plaguing Colonial society."

It had been over 52-years since the original Cybernetic Life-form Nodes or Cylons, had rebelled and thrust humanity into 12-years of terrible war, the ban on AI research still held. Millions had lost their lives and an entire generation of Colonial technology development had been lost for fear of the mechanical rebellion.

A shadow caught his eyes and as Kellan continued her discussion on the opposition to his efforts to bring about revolution to a rampantly confused society, something that the mere sight of made his blood boil and his conversation with the lovely Kellan faultier for just an instance.

Twenty-minutes later, the interview barely over by a few seconds, his bedroom door was knocked open and Baltar found a warm body slamming into his, forcing him against the wall.

"Miss me?" She cooed, tenderly rolling her fingers down his cheek.

"Can't you tell?" He seductively laughed, sending a hand through her short, platinum blonde curls.

"Your body misses me," she noted, pressing hard into a certain portion of his lower anatomy, "but what about your heart? Your soul?"

"Yeah, those too..." he responded breathlessly, willing to agree to anything right now if it just made the eventual release a little sooner.

"Do you love me, Gaius?" the split second she had utters those words, he froze and gave her a long hard look.

"What?" the man inquired, freezing in his motion of trying to unhook her bra.

"Do you love me?" she asked again, taking his face in her hands and looking deep into his eyes.

"Are you... are you serious?" Baltar asks again, a flash of fear in his eyes... until he noticed the grin on her lips and he started to laugh. "Gods, you had me worried there for a second..."

* * *

His jaw hurt like a mother, it was a dull aching pain that rose and swelled under his skin. It didn't help that he also had a massive bruise across his swollen cheek to go with his pain.

The urge to rub it almost caused him to touch the dark black and blue skin but when the idea of inciting that pain any further her kept his fingers clenched by his sides and waited for the pain killers he took a few hours ago to finally do their work.

"So you gonna press charges against Starbuck?" his companion asked, the good commander fixing him with an eye over the brim of his coffee cup. "Ask for a court martial?"

"Hell no, Bill," Tigh grumbled out. "She may have clocked me good but I just revoked her flight status, that's enough. Just a friendly game that got outta hand."

However that didn't seem to convince his old friend, who had to ask the obvious. "Heard you were drunk... again."

"I had a drink," the Colonel shrugged as if it wasn't any big deal. "I wasn't on duty."

"Been drinking a lot lately," Adama noted, placing his mug back on the table and regarding his friend. "This have anything to do with-"

"My wife?" he already knew where he was going with. "Why just because she's sleeping with half the population of _Gemenon_ while I'm away. Nah, doesn't have anything to do with her."

"Well," the commander noted, "I doubt Starbuck's gonna ask for a court either. Lucky for you, considering your record."

"Doesn't matter really," Tigh dug himself a little deeper into the couch he occupied opposite his old friend. "I'm getting out anyway."

"There a chance you'll change your mind?" Adama didn't seem comfortable with seeing his old friend being left with nothing left to call a career. "The Fleet needs men like you, Saul."

"Like hell!" Saul laughed. "You're the only sonuvabitch in the whole fleet dumb enough to want me as XO."

"Now you see why they're putting me out to pasture," Adama said with a wry smile. "All right. Ceremony's at fourteen hundred. Be there on time, in a fresh uniform and clean shaven."

"Yes, sir," Tigh nodded curtly, but he paused for just an instance before he continued onto the obvious. "Has Lee reported aboard yet?"

"Three hours ago," the man noted obviously and grimly.

"Maybe you should-"

"He'll contact me," Adama cut him off, "when he's ready…"

Below deck the aforementioned Lee was however meeting with someone more important.

"Hey, Kara," she looked up to see him standing in the arch way of the bunk room, looking at bit uncomfortable and staring at everything in the room but her.

"Lee," she shouldn't have been surprise to see him but after so long she knew her eyebrows went up a few notches when she spoke. "How long's it been?"

"Two years," the other man shrugged, now it seemed like he wanted to look at her even less. "Not since the..."

"Funeral… yeah…" her voice got distant at the touché subject they were wandering into. Funny how after this long it was the first thing they both went to.

"So..." he was looking for something to change the topic and as his eyes noticed the large red 'X' on the flight board outside the door, he knew what to talk about. "What happened with your flying slot?

"I'm grounded," she pinched her tongue between her teeth as she spoke, sliding a little on the bench she was sitting on. "Striking a superior asshole."

"You serious?" Lee's voice raised a bit at her words. "Who?"

"The XO," she could almost hear the smirking grin that was spreading over Lee's lips. "Go ahead. Say it. Same old Kara."

"I wasn't going to say that," he tried to keep the humor out of his voice, trying to act a bit sheepish.

"You thought it," she quipped right back, her eyes traveling up and down his body, noting how tense his shoulders were under the fabric of his dress uniform.

"No," he bitterly laughed. "I was going to say what Zak always said which was... Sorry…"

The words died in his throat and he went quiet when he remembered who he was talking too.

"Seen the Old Man yet?" she asked, this time it was her trying to find something else to talk about.

"No," Lee answered, tense in voice.

"But you're going to, right?" Kara pressed, though she knew she was simply dragging out the obvious pain of demise.

"Not if I can help it," he grinned an evil smile. "Kara, don't even start..."

"He's lost one son already," she shout right back, her shoulders tense and ready for a fight that she knew was coming. "He shouldn't have to lose two."

"Hey!" she shot up, her eyes hard and glaring like brilliant fires. "He's the one responsible for what happened to… he's not. Okay? I was there, you weren't, and what happened to Zak was an accident. That's it."

"He got to you," Lee perched himself on the door and locked his eyes right onto her with a piercing gaze. "I can't believe it. He actually got to you."

"Look," she hissed through her teeth, trying to keep her cool, "when Zak died, I lost it. Okay? I was done. Probably would've ended up back in _Picon_ driving a truck. The Old Man brought me here, said go be a pilot. Put me back on my feet."

"I'm not looking for a fight with you, Kara," Lee tried to be diplomatic; he knew how hard it was for her after his brother's sudden death, he wasn't going to try and downplay her suffering.

"You go up against Commander Adama," her eyes burned up at him, "you've got one anyway."

"And Zak actually wanted to marry you!" Adama shouted darkly. "Now here you are siding with the man who basically killed him."

"You should go," the dangerous twinkle in her eyes was enough to get Lee to shiver. "I'm getting the urge to hit another superior asshole."

"Whatever, I've got somewhere to be," he kept his voice low and leveled but the tension was riding high in his words. "See you in another two-years, Kara."

She didn't acknowledge his departure, save for the helmet that hit the door the moment he was gone, but he had an appointment to keep… with the last man he wanted to see in all the Colonies…

* * *

It didn't really hit her until she was actually sitting in her chair on said flight that she was probably going to die before overcome this terrible condition. Human emotion had a way of blinding you when the only logical course was sitting right in front of you.

Still she felt settle inside that she had at least done the right thing in whatever short amount of time she had left.

_Frak Adar_, she grinned inwardly to herself, _he's a pompous ass after all_.

"Excuse me?" she turned her head to notice the young man standing in the cramped aisle of the passenger cabin, eye staring down at her from a head topped in curly blonde hair. "Secretary Roslin?"

"Yes," she answered to confirm his question.

"Hi… I'm Billy Keikeya," when he noticed the blank look on her face he quickly rose to supply the answer to her. "Your new assistant."

"Oh, hello," she offered him a nice but distracted smile to be polite before gesturing to the chair beside her. "Have a seat."

"The Education Ministry sent your briefing book from the office," he eagerly took the seat, fished through his bag and avidly turned over the massive three-ringed binder that was so heavy it almost caused his wrist to break under the stress. "It has everything in it you'll need for the decommissioning ceremony."

She took the binder from him, placed it on her lap but made no attempt to read it. Instead she looked out the window at the spaceport terminal beyond, at the city beyond that and lost herself in thought for just a little bit.

"Do you know where we're going?" she asked, still staring off into nothing as her new assistant tried to catch up with the peculiar behavior of his boss.

"To the _Galactica_. The ship's being retired and transferred to the Ministry as a museum ship," he was so anxious to supply that information it wasn't until he said it he knew he may have overstepped his line. "I took the liberty of reading the briefing on the way over. I hope that's okay?"

"That's fine," she nodded, though in the whole truth she wouldn't have cared either way even if her mind weren't so preoccupied right now. "It's a long flight. Hope you don't mind if I catch some sleep.

"Not at all," Billy wasn't going to protest.

But sleep wasn't going to come to her. Less than ten seconds after both her eyelids have fallen closed then the captain decided to make his departure announcements.

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Captain Russo_," a man's voice echoed over the loudspeakers as the stewardess began the preflight safety demonstrations. "_We are ready for departure. Our flight to rendezvous with Galactica is expected to take five hours, forty-three minutes. Our cruising speed will be_..."

* * *

It hurt to breath but she kept running, the smacking of rubber against the her feet stung but she kept running. In front of her the specs of a _Mercury_-class _Battlestar _lay open over the control panel of her treadmill, the words bouncing to and fro as the sound of her legs pumping added some kind of melodramatic soundtrack.

The chimes of someone at the door distracted her only slightly from her reading, nearly causing her left foot to catch her right but she quickly compensated and kept on running.

"Come in!" Admiral Helena Cain yelled.

The door of her quarters slid open to allow the entrance of her second in command, Colonel Jurgen Belzen. Crossing the sparsely decorated room the dark haired man came up next to his exercising commanding officer and happened to glance at her choice of reading material.

"That's your idea of vacation reading?" Belzen asked with an evil smirk, he already knew the answer to that question.

"What is that?" she retorted pointing at the paragliding magazine he held in his hands, "your idea of a hobby?"

"Yeah... yeah, it is," he admitted. "So, have you figured out how you're gonna spend your shore leave? "

"I'm thinking about maybe going home to _Tauron_ to visit some friends," Helena lied, though Jurgen could easily see through that so she tried to appease the truth just enough to get her off the hook. "But I don't have any definite plans yet, no."

"On that case, how about spending some time with us on _Gemenon_?" he inquired. "I know Erika and the girls would love to see you. Come on, Helena. You deserve a break. You're going full tilt for over a year now."

"I've got a repair list as long as my arm plus our network's gonna be down for the retrofit," she lied again to get out of seeing a bunch of strangers again; faking smiles and interest when in reality she was screaming on the inside. "You know I don't like leaving _Pegasus_ at the mercy of civil contractors, so..."

"All right, listen to your XO once in a while," Belzen cautioned, with a mock gesture and a defeated yet humor filled glare. "Its okay to get off the treadmill once and a while."

"I will think about it," to which Cain received a roll of the eyes from him. "I'll think about it!"

"Ok," he conceded to her before making his retreat from Cain's cabin. The moment she was free Helena only started to run harder, the sound of moving rubber track hitting the rubber soles of her shoes getting only louder as she threw herself deeper into her reading.

Not far away another dedicated officer stared absently at a similar report.

Kendra Shaw, a former Ministry of Defense officer recently assigned to her first _Battlestar_, sat in the passenger alcove of a _Raptor_ as she paged through what little information she had been given on the_ Pegasus_.

She was lost in her own thoughts when a far off voice woke her back to real world.

"_Raptor_ _179_, _you're cleared for docking bay 3_," the flight control officer onboard the _Battlestar Pegasus_ said over the radio. "_Call the ball_."

"Roger that, _Pegasus_," the pilot responded as he began the final approach, his voice garbled behind his golden-brown flight helmet. "We have the ball."

_Pegasus_ was a _Mercury-_class _Battlestar_, the top-of-the-line vessel of the Colonial military.

That was until the completion of the new _Warriorstar-_class that was soon to roll out of the shipyards.

A significant step up from the iconic _Colombias,_ she boosted a more boxy appearance over the sleek curves of the _Colombias_, a smaller neck section, eight sub-light engine pods over the older class's six and each flight pod consisted of two landing alcoves, one above and below the vessel's mid-line. Combined with computer assisted landing, the _Mercury_-class could recovery _Vipers_ at a faster rate than any previous _Battlestars_. This came in handy since a fully outfitted _Mercury_ could carry a maximum of one hundred and eighty _Viper_ Mark VII fighters.

And the _Battlestar Pegasus_ was the first of her line, the flagship for the future.

Recently she had put in for three-month overhaul of her computer systems and the addition of a new array of point kinetic defense cannons at the _Scorpion Shipyards_ over _Scorpia's _moon of _Topaz_. Upon its completion the _Pegasus_ would be the most powerful vessel in the Twelve Colonies for at least another few months before the _Warriorstars _started their shakedown cruises.

The _Raptor_ floated down like a feather on the wind, coasting in on a smooth ride that soon ended as they touched down on the landing deck. An elevator below them carried the ship down from the upper port flight-pod and onto the _Pegasus's_ main deck.

Kendra pulled her bag onto her shoulder and in seconds was standing on the deck of her new home, the _Battlestar Pegasus_, BS 62 or the 'Beast' as so many pilots like to call her.

A memory cropped up in her head, of a few days previous that brought a smirk to her lips. As the mess hall chef at the Caprica Transfer Station, Frank Bruno had said would say, "_Half the officers on this base would kill to get posted on that ship_... _other half would kill themselves before being posting to that ship._"

She however was here for a much different reason. After babysitting Cain for a few years Kendra knew that it would make the prefect stepping stone to a position at Fleet Command. Put up with her for a year or two, she could be a strategic leader at anyone of the Command theaters at _Picon_, exactly what she had dreamed off since she enrolled at the Academy.

"Excuse me," Kendra tried to ask to a passing mechanic, "Could you please point me towards..."

Three more attempts were met with the same results, her being ignored and wandering deeper into the _Battlestar_ with no idea where she was going seemed to be the running theme.

"Excuse me," she tried again and again, "could you please show me..."

"Looking for the CIC?"

Kendra turned to find the voice that had answered her recurring question. A young woman in a sky blue uniform of a _Scorpion Shipyard_ shipyard worker turned around from the circuit board she currently was repairing to greet Shaw with a wide smile and a sweep of her dirty blond hair.

She nodded in confirmation, "How did you know?"

"You got that new officer meaning to report to her CO look down cold," the civilian admitted with a light giggle. Turning her high-tech clipboard around she pulled up the ships schematics to give Shaw a visual aid. "One of the benefits of being a network administrator: This is us. This is where you need to be."

"You're a lifesaver!" the younger officer exclaimed before extending a hand out to shake the person's that had most likely saved her a lot of time and energy wandering the halls of the _Pegasus_, "Kendra Shaw."

"Gina Inviere," the shipyard worker offered her hand to complete the handshake.

"Inviere... That's old Gemonese for '_Resurrection'_, isn't it?" a surprised Gina nodded at Kendra's off handed comment, "one of the benefits of being a lapsed classic major."

It was the night way of saying she had no idea what she really wanted to do but didn't want to be the stereotypical '_liberal arts major'_.

"Guess you never know when something like that might come in handy," Inviere accepted. "Welcome to _Pegasus_, Lieutenant."

Saying a quick thank you and goodbye to Ms. Inviere, Shaw was off again, this time heading in the right direction to meet her destiny. She could never have seen the haunted look that cross Gina's face for just a second before she quickly masked it under a well adapted smile and returning to her work.

Several minutes later a nearly exhausted Kendra was pulling herself into the _Pegasus_ CIC, trying to ignore the burning in her leg muscles from the long run she had just finished. It took only a nano-second to recognize Admiral Cain from her assignment roster behind a Neanderthal-stare and a quick halt in the scribbling of her pen.

"Lieutenant Kendra Shaw reporting for duty," she saluted her superior officer even if the woman was hunched over the plotting table with a mass of papers spread all over the surface, "Sir."

"Ah," Cain asked, not bothering to even turn and regard her new attaché. "Did you enjoy your coffee, Lieutenant?"

The comment caught Kendra off guard. "My coffee?" she asked.

"Just say yes, so we don't get off on the wrong foot." Cain returned with, the annoyance in her voice very prevalent.

"Yes, Sir," as Shaw gave into confusion.

"Good! You see, because I figured that you either got lost on your way to CIC," behind Kendra, Colonel Jack Fisk smiled at the inside joke while Cain continued to berate her new assistant, "or you stopped for a cup of coffee and frankly, I'd rather think it was a cup of coffee than realizing my new aid can't find her way around a _Battlestar_."

Shaw quickly tired to rush to her defense. "Sir, I've just arrived-"

"I'm not finished speaking." The Admiral interrupted, "I know why you're here. You're here because you think this job is a stepping stone to a still better one. So let me guess, you had your mother pull some strings. And she-"

"My mother's dead, sir," it was Kendra's turn to interrupt, without a hint of emotion or remorse in her voice. "She died of cancer."

"Yes, I know. I read the papers," Cain admitted. "And while I'm very sorry for your loss, you'd be well advised to make that the last time you play on my sympathies. Between you and me, I'm feeling a hell of a lot sorrier for myself. Mister Hoshi."

"Sir?" a taller man quickly left his position at the communication station to come up next to Kendra.

"Can you please direct this Lieutenant to her quarters?" Helena instructed.

With a curt nod from Hoshi, Admiral Cain dismissed them both and returned to her work as the two officers scurried out of her sight.

The moment they were out of sight Cain, Fisk and Belzen could barely contain their laughter.

"A little mid-morning snack?" Helena smiled as she gathered up her papers. "I'll be in my quarters…"

* * *

Two officers nodded and they worked in tandem. It was like clockwork, Krut and he kept their weapons trained as Wutter'nun preformed a scan of the room to find anyone left alive. It was slow and methodical but if someone was trapped under debris or behind a door they had to know while staying vigilant of whatever had damaged the _Savior_.

A stellar-cartography, hydroponics and biometrics lab each failed to represent anything moving other then another six dead bodies and a damaged housekeeping drone, perpetually cleaning the same dirty spot on the floor.

Anderson was about to give up when the door of the quantum mechanics psychics lab slide open and a gasping Narn fell out. For a second the young, bloodied man found three plasma pulse rifled in his face but that quickly disappeared as Anderson shouldered his weapon and went to the victim's side.

"It's okay…it's okay," he tried to calm the terrified boy as he gasped for breath that never seemed to come. "I have a live one!"

"Ulla we need you!" Krut shouted into his/her ear-pod. "Six doors down on the left from the cargo hold. We have survivors."

So preoccupied in dealing with one living person, Anderson had to look up and see they weren't alone. Across the floor almost two-dozen people gasped, coughed and groaned, all lost in varying states of injury and pain.

"Are you okay?" Dwight asked his injured patient as his two comrades raced into the lab to help the others. "Can you speak?

"The mechaniods…" the youngster croaked, his white uniform stained in black burns and spilled blood, his red spotted skin broken and torn over most of his face, "there were mechaniods aboard… killing everyone… we drove them off."

"You did well, your people are safe. We're sending rescue shuttles," even if Anderson was trying to calm the man he was losing him fast. Already his eyes were starting to drift and his body started to go limp. "Ulla, where are you?

"I'm here, sir!" the woman yelled as she sprinted down the corridor and slide into place next to him. Waving a scanner over the Narn's body she could only shake her head in defeat. "I'm sorry; he was bleeding out before we got to him. There was no chance."

"Sir," Krut yelled, his/her voice echoing in the silence the now filled Anderson's ears, "I think you need to see this."

Slowly laying the dead man to rest on the ground, Dwight's cold composure returned as he squared his shoulders and approached whatever Krut was interested in.

"What the hell is that?" he noted as the commanding Biosquad officer looked down on the find.

The smoking remains of some metal mechaniod.

"Don't know," Krut shook his/her head. "Scan show it's mechanical, possibly semi-intelligent. I can't get much of it, plasma fire melted most of its internal systems, and whatever's left is locked in place. Its better scrap then machine."

"Put a priority tag on it," Dwight arrayed, "and have it shipped out as soon as we have the survivors off."

For some reason the cold, chrome machine that lay on the floor sent a chill up Dwight's spine, a sightless black visor staring into nothing as a red light blinked idly in the center. Whatever it was the machine was just sinister and cold looking, especially its spiders, razor sharp fingers and bullet shaped head.

Just as Dwight was about to move back to help his team a transmission came through on their helmets.

"_Captain Anderson_," Captain Lianeg Ot on the _Cattalo_, reported over the communicator, "_Victory reports that the Hope is going to be reeling us in momentarily_."

"Ok people, the _Hope_ is going to be taking us abroad in a few," he communicated to the other members of his team. "I want rescue operations halted for the time being unless totally necessary, buckle down in case of any sudden turbulence. You'll get the all clear when the dock control gives me the green. I'm going to head back to the shuttle to coordinate with the pilots, you're in charge Tyson..."

* * *

"Okay gentlemen," Doral smiled as he waved the two officers together, "if you'll stand a little closer... Commander could I get you to put your arm around your son?"

Neither man moved immediately, instead they held their ground and let the uncomfortable silence that prevailed in the wardroom. But with some reluctance, they moved together and the father placed his arm around the shoulder of his son.

The photographer quickly snapped a few more pictures, not noticing the awkward family reunion going on before him.

"Great... perfect," the public relations minister quickly nodded in succession. "Thank you so much. See you at the ceremony."

In one quick sweep of his ugly red-orange coat he was gone, followed a second later by the photographer who had just finished packing up his equipment.

A moment of truth, a father and son left alone for the first time in a long time...

"Can I get you anything?" the Commander reached over to the pot of coffee on the nearby conference table. When he felt how cold it was however he didn't need to guess how long it had been since this pot had been left out. "We make a truly awful cup of coffee."

'No," Lee didn't miss a beat. "Thank you, sir."

Bill didn't need to understand the subtext to know that '_sir' _was intended as an insult.

"Have a seat," he gestured to the seat across from him as he took one on the side of the table... though Lee made no move to take a position across from him and continued to stand. "Congratulations on making Captain."

"Thank you, sir," again there was silence as the younger man ground the rank, not the familial relationship, into the open wound.

"How's your mother?" he tried for a topic that didn't involve the root of their sore spot.

"Getting married," Lee never did miss a beat.

"Good for her," the older man nodded without a hint of remorse or anguish like the Captain had hoped to exact on him. "We talked, you know. About a year ago, we sorta had a heart to heart about a lot of things..."

He had been prepare for the detached, almost accepting nature the Commander was extruding. He had wanted anger, hurt, something he could dig his teeth into and taste blood.

"I'm glad to hear that, sir," he returned to the one item he knew got on the superior officer nerve's. "Will that be all?"

The respect, the proper way he held himself in his dress uniform, it was all the perfect mask to hide the seething anger behind Lee's eyes... the same eyes that he had.

"Damnit Lee," he finally let out a long, ragged breath, "talk to me."

Silence prevailed again... but this time Bill could see the mask was starting to crack as the ends of Lee's mouth began to twitch.

"What do you want to talk about, sir?" he ground between clenched teeth as he held back the torrent of emotions.

"Anything," Bill hissed. "Just... drop that cadet crap and say something."

"I don't have anything to say," the Captain shrugged again as the mask began to cement itself again. "My orders said report here and participate in the ceremony, so I'm here. That's it. Wasn't anything in my orders about having a heart to heart chat with the old man."

Even if he face wasn't showing it, the sound of his voice was barely constrained fury.

"You know..." he knew he was going to regret this but if it meant the only way he was going to get a reaction he had to take it, "the things you said to me at the funeral-"

"I really don't want to get into this..." Lee was already turning to make an exit but Adama wasn't done.

That is until his father spoke those next words.

"You still feel that way?"

"Godsdamn right I still feel that way!" the mask was gone and now it was unceasing rage. "Frakking right I do!"

A charged moment between the two men, everything held itself for just a second as the worse of the storm had yet to crash to the ground.

"It was an accident, Lee," Adama whispered it, though he knew the words were again falling on deaf ears. "An accident."

"So you say," Lee shrugged. "I disagree."

"I didn't force Zak into flight school," the Commander shook his head, knowing this was just another wasted fight. "It was what he wanted to do."

"Like he had a choice," he crossed his arms, mumbling the threat under his breath.

"Of course he had a choice," Adama shot right back. "You both did! You could've been anything you wanted to be. I would've been proud-"

"A man isn't a man until he wears the uniform of his Colony," Lee said the words like they were acid to his tongue, each one dripping without remorse or repentance.

"I was trying to teach you something about duty," his father fought on, "and-"

"Oh, you taught us," the younger Adama wheeed with wrath. "You taught us so well we were trying on uniforms before we were out of grade school. Except one of us wasn't cut out to wear the uniform. Wasn't cut out to be a pilot. One of us wouldn't have even gotten into flight school if his father hadn't pulled strings to-"

"I didn't pull strings!" Adama snapped back, his own anger coming out.

"You didn't call your buddy Commander Erdwell on the board?" Lee was almost mocking him. "When are you going to take responsibility for this! Zak didn't belong in uniform and he sure as hell didn't belong in that plane! Face it, you killed him just as if you-"

His stopped, knowing that he was going too far.

He bite back the accusations, the rage, everything he had said but already Lee knew he had dug that dagger in too far.

"You can go now..." Adama's voice was barely a controlled level of rage, "Captain..."

* * *

His talons clicked on the floor of the cargo bay, impatiently waiting for his shuttle to be cleared for boarding. Checking his wrist comm for the third time he grumbled again as he noticed this was taking an unnecessary amount of time. Deckhands just loved to make their superiors wait as all kinds of imaginary problems and technical mishaps had to be solved. More often than not it was probably the reason he was a Space Guard officer and they were auxiliary enlisted who were only in the empire's fleets for a few cycles to pay for college or get something to start a family or business with.

"Can we hurry this up, Chief," he may have been a full head shorter than the Sangheili male, but it didn't stop him from trying to flex his wings and appear all the more imposing to the commanding engineer.

"Your shuttle will be ready when I say it is ready, Doctor," Chief Kruxal grumbled back at the Skorr physician. "Busy yourself in the meantime and it will go faster."

He knew that any more protests would probably land his shuttle last in line for departure and the Chief Medical Officer being fashionably late to a critical shipping disaster was never a good thing. Accepting his minor defeat, Xianextnucatoital retreated back to the walls of the massive hangar deck.

"Doctor Xianextnucatoital," he wobbled his long neck around and couldn't help but stare down his sharp beak at the young tactical officer that approached him. "Those security droids you requested have been loaded onto Shuttle-910 and 056."

"Ah, Lieutenant Moneti," the Skorr grinned, if his face were capable of such muscle actions. "Need I remind you, we were supposed to have our weekly therapy session this morning? I seemed to remember being in my office... alone... with no patient.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," suddenly the man in charge of security and warfare didn't seem to keen on a fight, his eyes darted from side to side looking for an out. "But obviously we were a bit busy trying to save an entire civilian transport from imploding like a tin can."

"Our session was schedule for 2200 hours..." Xianextnucatoital noted with a hint of glee between his words, "that was an hour _before_ the_ Running Savior _jumped into our local space. Now, want to try for excuse number two and see how fast I can shot holes in that one too?"

"I have been preoccupied, alright," the Lieutenant seethed in anger for a second before reeling it back in to his cool demeanor. "My job comes before any frivolous emotions."

"Words that tend to be spoken just prior to a full mental breakdown," Xianextnucatoital quipped, finding this an excellent distraction as he waited for his departing shuttle.

"Doctor, why do you always try and draw me into your little verbal fencing matches?" Alhex noted through accusing eyes, which already were glaring with the heat of a thousand suns.

"Because I don't have a real sword handy," the doctor shot right back. "Lieutenant, I am scheduling another session for next week. You decide to put your job before your frivolous emotions again and I will pull rank on you. I may be the Chief Medical Officer but I am also a Major, two ranks above you."

"Fine," he conceded, "but don't expect me to start crying about my childhood."

"As long as you don't throw anything like last time..." Xianextnucatoital gave him a hard look that could crush a diamond, "and we are still staying a minimum safe distance away during the entire session."

"Why Doctor," Moneti feigned mock hurt at his accusation. "I won't bite!"

"With all due respect, Lieutenant," Xianextnucatoital said in all seriousness, "that's _not _what I heard."

"All right," the young man shrugged, "that one time-"

"It was twice…"

* * *

She was careful on the gangplank, keeping her fine cream-colored shoes from slipping on the rungs as she descended to the deck below.

It would be utterly embracing to fall on her rump instead of her feet to signify her arrival when she was considered one of the guests of honor at this damn event. Two crewmen however were more than helpful in offering a hand to guide her onto the deck proper.

"Secretary Roslin, Mister Keikeya?" the pair turned to find a small man, wearing a red sports coat "My name is Aaron Doral, I'm from public relations and I'd like to welcome you aboard _Galactica_. If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your quarters."

He left, without any other word or indication, leaving little choice for the two of them to follow.

Through the featureless, identical hallways they moved, Though Billy seemed to be drinking in every piece of information, detail and passing words, Laura was distracted and uninterested in anything around her.

Doral passed over a clipboard to Laura, she scanned her eyes over the new copy, noting the differences and fresh toner ink as her hands ran over the rigid, hexagon cut piece of paper.

"Is there a revised schedule for the retirement ceremony?" She asked as they continued on their trek.

"Oh..." Aaron stumbled over his words for a second as he shot her a cautious glare, "they really hate that word around here. People are retired, ships are decommissioned..."

Their words were just white noise to Billy as he tried to study every single thing around him... in particular the three female deckhands passing by covered in grease, sweat and lose fitting tank tops. He was so engrossed in watching their swinging hips and carefree grins that when he turned around... the Secretary and that peculiar tour guide were gone.

"Hello..." he called out into the four-way intersection he found himself inside of. "Madame Secretary..."

* * *

"Keep linear pitch at 6-88 on position," Captain Veri Botha reported, as the distress vessel grew larger in the floating holo-display. "We don't want to clip her when we reel her in."

"Keeping linear pitch at 6-88, aye," Lieutenant Junior Grade Mercedes Yang reported as she adjusted the flight path of their ship to match the drift of their quarry.

"This is _Lancer Hope_ command to Biosquad Alpha-1," Major Dawson Zimmerman tapped his earpod at the communication station. "Advising to prepare for turbulence, we are extending our AG-field over you for docking in sixty seconds."

The _Lancer's Hope_ was a good-sized _Bison-_class mobile dock, three times the length of the _Victory_ and double the crew. With seventeen other ships to maintain and repair at a moment's notice, plus a quadrant of civilian vessels that always loved to have a break down right when they were farthest from port, three thousand and eight hundred technicians, engineers and shipwrights were ready to take on any damage, breakdown or glitch in every form short of complete and total core meltdown. While she was the largest ship in 95SpinwardαǼ the _Hope_ was primarily empty space, the defining feature of her class.

Most mobile docks carried scaffolding exposed to open space, meant to lock around a wreck in order to enact repairs; the entirely enclosed and pressurized docking bay could hold a ship the size of _Victory_ in a total oxygen atmosphere. This was a welcomed bonus to the workers she carried, no longer were they dependent on heavy spacesuits and breathing equipment when making hull repairs or enduring the extra slow processor that was required to repair tiny bits of circuitry with bulky space-suit gloves.

"_Biosquad Alpha-1, Captain Ot reporting," _a voice warbled over the speakers._ "Understood. Team is standing down. You better hurry, we have found confirmed survivors, multiple fatalities_."

"Understood," Zimmerman acknowledge. "Captain, medical teams from the _Delirium_ are in route but the triage team will take twenty-minutes to shuttle over."

"Give them priority clearance," Botha confirmed. "Prepare damage control teams for immediate deployment and advise crew to prepare for incoming causalities. Jerrod, gimme a countdown and distance to target acquisition."

"_Yes, sir_," the holographic AI nodded as he projected miniature representation of himself directly under the transparent icon of the Savior. "_Distance is three thousand meters and closing. Time to docking is one minute, fifty two seconds. Linear rotation is now beginning._"

Rotating onto its starboard side the _Hope_ approached the listing _Savior_, keeping itself on course with the damaged craft as diligent as possible even as the craft continued to drift absently off into the void. Very slowly it brought the ship inside its bay, keeping delicate care to ensure it did not cause any more damage to the fragile vessel by slowly reeling the _Savior _in with tiny adjustments with its AG-field.

The moment the forward hanger fell into place and locked the beehive came alive.

Emergency fire drones launched in a second, racing out in the zero-g environment, pouring cold bubbling clouds of ammonium phosphate onto the blazes and electrical explosions that made the hull a dangerous mine field. Thermal sensors kept the low-grade intelligence droids pouring the smothering liquid onto the inferno until internal alarms signaled that the oxygen starved fires were gone and they could return to their moorings.

Once free of the danger of the flames spreading the dock's vents began to release atmosphere into the bay, allowing for the critical rescue and medical teams to move in. More than three dozen hover-freights, ranging from personal single carriers to heavy platforms holding medical teams and repair workers converged en-mass towards the transport.

Two extendable arms descended from each of the opposing sides, bringing themselves within reach of the tiny _Savior_. On the end of each massive extension eight interconnected hexagons glowed brightly. These were the stabilizers for the ship, using a combination of rotating anti-gravity fields and magnetic charges to bring the exploration ship into proper linear alignment with the interior bay of the _Hope_.

During the entire delicate manipulation search and rescue crews were boarding the former starship, each with the delicate mission of trying to preserve what few lives onboard that had managed to pull through this ordeal.

"The _Hope_ reports the _Savior_ is onboard and the main bay is closed," Captain Upsalon reported back onboard the _Victory, _watching the intense and dangerous floating ballet with bated breath and waiting dread.

"Understood," Volaska confirmed. "Ensign Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss, I want the CO's of the _Hope_ and our Biosquad, along with the senior officers in my conference room in two hours. I'll be in my quarters until then."

* * *

Billy wandered on for a bit, trying to find where he was inside this massive behemoth. Two attempts to open a hatch were met with failure but finally he noticed someone, a woman walking along in a pair of tight briefs and an equally tight tank top.

She was beautiful, just the way she moved was engrossing enough to make him trip over his own feet but he quickly realized the fact he was lost and every second could be costing him a job,

Before he could ask her, she was gone, heading into a hatch not to far off.

Knowing time was ticking he raced in after her, just barely making it inside before it slide close.

He really wished he hadn't because the moment he was inside Billy found himself inside the steamy atmosphere of _Galatica's_ head... the military version of a bathroom.

Men, women, it didn't matter because everyone was walking about in underwear, bath towels... or in some cases nothing at all.

The girl he had been following a minute ago was now standing at one of the sinks in the center of the room, running her hands under the hot water with a tooth brush in the corner of her mouth.

"In or out," she yelled, hawking a wad of toothpaste into the sink with never once bothering to look at him.

"What?" he stammered.

"Get in or get out, but shut the hatch," she grumbled, tossing a towel over her shoulder. "You're letting out all the heat."

"Uh, sorry," he apologized in a haphazard manner as he reached behind himself and slide the door closed, noting the huge temperature difference between the outside world and the atmosphere of the bathroom.

He tried not to pay attention as he walked around and noticed a group of deckhands coming out of the shower in nothing... not even towels.

The girl however paid them no attention even as two took position on either side of her, still just cleaning out her tooth brush before finally turning her eyes up to look at him.

"Lost?" she inquired.

"Yeah," he admitted, desperately hoping for some excuse to be out of this room a little faster.

"Where you going?" she pressed, finely fixing her hair back into a pony tail as she continued her morning primp.

"Uh... visitor's quarters," he stumbled over his words, trying to find an explanation for being here in the first place. "I'm a visitor."

"Really?" a deckhand laughed even as he pulled his shirt over his head and started to get ready for the morning. "Never would've guessed."

Billy tried to keep cool, but being surrounded by all these naked bodies, with no existence of privacy or a hint of moral squeamishness among the assembled group.

"Never been in a unisex head before?" she asked, noting his apparent discomfort.

"A unisex what?" he distractedly asked.

"Head," she supplied. "The bathroom?"

"Oh," he caught on. "No, not really."

"If you've living on a warship," she explained, "the first rule is there's not much privacy, so don't get your panties in a bunch at what you might see. Second rule, is don't stare."

He nearly fell over himself when he realized he was gawking at the numerous naked bodies passing before his eyes. To save himself some further embarrassment he just clapped his hand over his eyes and wished really hard he were somewhere else.

"Don't worry," he could hear the smile in her voice as a hand caught his shoulder and pushed him out through the hatch, "visitors usually don't have to share facilities like the rest of us. C'mon. Let's find your home. What's your name?"

"Billy," he said, finally removing his hand from over his eyes and being very happy that he was no longer trapped in the clothing optional area like a military bathroom.

"I'm Petty Officer Second Anastasia Dualla," she nodded as she led him down the halls.

"Hi... Petty Second, uh...?" he had already forgotten her name, how stupid of him.

"You can call me Dee..."

* * *

Hours later the senior officers, Anderson, Captain Botha of the _Lancer's Hope_ via hologram and Doctor Xianextnucatoital were gathered around the conference table on _Victory_.

"We managed to pull about seventy three individuals from the wreck," Captain Anderson reported, a look of grim stress overtaking his features. Too many innocent lives had been lost on what should have been a boring science mission.

"Fourteen remain in critical condition; six are terminal cases that will pass by the end of the day," Chief Medical Officer Doctor Xianextnucatoital reported, his massive wings flexing a bit as he spoke, "tomorrow at the best bet."

"That means a hundred and thirty four people perish and that number is to rise," the Admiral grumbled over the death toll, a crew manifest floated in holo-space before him, a good portion of the names flashing in angry red. "I would like to know who would decide to board and then launch nuclear weapons on a survey vessel that was more than ten thousand light cycles from where it was supposed to be."

"_It was the other way around_," Alli stated, catching everyone's attention.

"What?" Vonaka questioned the AI.

"_Survivor accounts, docking logs and radiation decay on the hull show that whoever attacked the Savior nuked her first_," she explained as she activated a holographic miniature of the vessel, several portions glowing to indicate the crippling damage, "_then tried to board her before trying to nuke her again_."

"Definitely not raiders or pirates," Moneti surmised, "they'd have taken her for all she's worth and then destroyed the evidence."

"_Records from the main computer are corrupted_," Captain Botha, the Coridanite male clicked through his translator mask that consumed almost his entire face, unable to attend, as the critical nature of the _Savior_ required his utmost attention, said through his holographic avatar. "_An unknown computer virus invaded the communication system and attempted to take control of the major functions of the Savior and download all its information. A few terabytes, all useless code, were captured before the Savior's AI caught on and scrambled its database…including itself_."

"The AI deleted itself," Chief Kruxal asked, "that's a serious form of self sacrifice."

"_Apparently its final act was to program in jump coordinates for this fleet and get the survivors here_," Alli concurred. Though her holographic avatar was programmed not to show emotion, the idea of a fellow AI purposely deleting itself in an act of suicide was troubling to her_. "After that it only left self-reliant systems to keep structural and atmospheric integrity online, along with minimal engine power to escape_."

"Damn, for an Mk 812 artificial intelligence it went above and beyond to keep its crew alive," Captain Upsalon shook his head, "What was its designation?"

"_Jitsu_," Alli supplied. "_Mk 812's weren't programmed for their personality quirks or intuitive capabilities but they always made sure their wards were always kept safe_."

Admiral Volaska knew this talk was only going to lead to more grisly thoughts so he quickly changed the subject. "What did the crew have to say?"

"Not much, they were following a lead from the Captain," Ensign Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss informed them all. "The entire command staff was killed just as the ship jumped, plus with the logs gone along with the central AI, we have little to go on."

"One of the surviving communication techs said they found something on the planet they were excavating," Alhex accounted, "a temple of some kind over four thousand cycles old, but their excavations didn't get far. He said Captain Donaldson found something and then ordered everything halted. Fearing a rival team would beat them to what he called '_the find of the century_' he took the ship dangerously off course and through several regions of unexplored space. Only he and the command staff had any clue where they were headed."

"And their dead now," Thamos observed, "What can we do?"

"I have contacted _Magellanic Stellar Command_ for more information," Vonaka supplied, "From the reports a Turian mining vessel made the original find on the fourth planet in the _LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q_ solar system and called in the All Systems University to excavate the structure. The _Savior_ was under contract to transport the archeological science team but nowhere in its mission profile approved by the Department of Interstellar Scientific Exploration does it state Captain Sutherland was authorized to make an unscheduled vacation out to here."

"The man was a loose cannon and an ideological wander known for getting into trouble," Upsalon bleakly added. "He violated the space of the Shi'ar Imperium on one of his previous missions and has lost his Non-Hegemony Territorial Certification three times. The time before that he should have been sent to prison for breaking Interstellar Law 373Ω93, which forbids contact with primitive species, after he tried to make first contact with the industrial-age Valakians. He was only pardoned on a technicality since his ship's AI suddenly came down with a virus and the ship logs were corrupted."

"No matter the reason, Command is taking this attack seriously," Volaska explained. "They are sending the Destroyers _River of Stars _and _Chariot of the Sun _to investigate the site while we are ordered to pursue leads on our end. Any suggestions?"

"We could jump to the last known position of the _Savior_," Moneti asked. "Investigate the local space and try to figure out who wanted to nuke a civilian transport."

Vonaka personally didn't like the idea of such a vicious attack going on during his watch. The 95SpinwardαǼ had a near perfect record keeping pirate activity and hostile incursions down to an all time low for a Frontier sector and he hated the idea that this could the vanguard of a much more serious threat.

He remembered back to his first posting on a Frontier Fleet almost thirty-six cycles ago, while he was serving as Executive Officer on the _Anastasia Ascendant_, flagship for the Second Coreward Defensive Fleet Beta Gamma. 2Coreβγ had jumped into a midsized stellar nursery to deal with a stranded convoy carrying food supplies to colonies in the _Antares Passage._ Instead they found themselves facing down the barrels of a full battle armada from the Baran Collective. Eight of the thirteen ships of the 2Coreβγ were destroyed upon stabilizing into normal space and the surviving five vessels had barely escaped with their lives.

Even if the ensuing military campaign against the Baran did result in the nation's annexation it did little to make up for the five thousand Guard officers that had been lost.

But he had little choice.

Something in his gut was telling him that he had to follow this possible lead. If he didn't the tiny voice in the back of his head told him bad things were going to happen.

"Do it," and with that command Admiral Vonaka Volaska, out of Visha by Voya Volaska, would go down in history as a man that changed a universe…


	3. Chapter Three: Into the Struggle

**Chapter** **Three**: Into the Struggle

**Rating**: PG-13

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Feedback**: Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywrited by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

_

* * *

_

_Tactically it was sound. Morally it was a just. Whichever it was, it was a hell of a ride._

**Admiral Ux'malon'nutra, excerpt from **_**Hegemony History: Military Conflict Edition, Volume 921, Chapter 12: Wars of Conclave**_

_

* * *

_

**Time:**_ Month of Ichor, Nineteenth Day, 3020 A.F. Hegemony Calendar / February 21st, 6230 C.E. Terran Calendar_

**Location:**_ Outer Rim of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, Cryannus Solar System_

* * *

"Jump complete," Contallia reported as everyone on the bridge tried to shake the wave of claustrophobia they all felt from the jump, "all ships report green status."

"Commencing full spectrum active scan on all bands," Moneti announced as sensors began to scour the surrounding space.

Active sensors operated by sending out a signal on the EM spectrum, much like radar systems on pre-unified Earth. Despite the immense amount of detail and information they could send back, the drawback of active sensors was that they gave away the position of the sensing ship, making them prime targets to enemy boats. A common tactic used by Space Guard ships was to rely on passive sensors and then sending out automated drones to take active readings and relay them back to the commanding vessel.

Right now the fleet didn't care if it got itself noticed.

"I have four contacts on the board," the Major announced a few seconds later as a quartet blips appeared in holo-space above the SIT. "Classifying three as capital ship and one unknown."

"Open hailing frequencies," the Admiral ordered. "Transmit base translation modules and a language package."

"Transmitting now," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss nodded as she sent the standard first contact package.

"Wait for reply and maintain neutral stance," Upsalon advised staying with standard first contact protocol edict. "We don't want to prompt an aggressive response-"

"What in the Goddess's name?" Alhex groaned as several alarms began to sound at his station.

"What is it?" both the XO and the Admiral said in unison.

"Communications logged a reply transmission," Ensign Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss clarified, "moment it was opened a malware program attempted to gain access to the system. Firewalls stopped it dead in its tracks however."

"_I currently have the malware package under my control_," Alli notified the command crew, as a flash icon with a frowning face on it appeared beside her holo-body. "_Whoever designed it wasn't going for stealth, it was meant for rapid deployment against someone who had no major defenses against it. Amateurish_."

"Put a lock on it and have the techs pull it apart later," Vonaka ordered as he separated from the SIT and addressed the immediate crew. "Well people we've obviously established who decided to jack the _Savior_. Let's teach them not to nuke civilian transports."

"Forward plasma cannons have firing solutions," Lieutenant Moneti made clear as he switched the SIT from active sensors to combat design. Four angry red floating squares appeared in a disordered formation several inches away from the multiple green icons that represented the 95SpinwardαǼ. Various screens appeared rotating in the holo-space reporting on speeds, strengths, energy outputs and every useful bit of information the tactical officer could pull out of them. "_Commonwealth_ and _Dynamic_ report similar," he continued, "the remainder of the fleet is moving into position."

"Target two of the three capitals," Volaska prepared, "make ready to take them out of my skies. Disable the other and the unknown; prepare troop detachments to take control of both. Tell the boys onboard the _Salute_ their going to see some action."

_Shadow Cast by a Final Salute _was a dedicated troop transport within the fleet, its main strategic function as a base for light regiments of troops plus drops ships and ground combat equipment to be deployed from. Apart from their combat role in planet-fall and ship boarding warfare operations, the _Crucible_-class trooper carrier was the backbone of the Guard's disaster relief and humanitarian aid, with over five hundred motivated soldiers qualified to provide manpower and distribute goods to civilians.

"Alli," Vonaka announced as the hologram appeared beside him. "I also want you to return their favor with a real malware package."

"_Understood_," Alli appeared again back in holo-form inside the SIT. "_Tachyon-Beta-Three-Six-Two-Omicron, I think would be a nice response. Self-aware and adaptable, it will make sure their systems are effectively crippled. Should take three minutes to calculate a proper intrusion into their systems_."

"It's your playing field," Vonaka held firm to her ability. "Have the other ships follow us in. Gunnery crews hold fire until ordered, prepare a standard load out of offensive missiles and be ready to fire the salvo when ready. Prime plasma cannons and pick your victims Lieutenant but let them fire first."

"Enemy is opening fire," Alhex announced. "A full spread of nuclear warheads and a fighter screen of one hundred twenty hostiles."

"Gunnery crews are green down the board," Captain Upsalon proclaimed, as several transparent cannons and weapons appeared drifting in holo-space before him. "Offensive missile salvo is in the tubes."

"Fire!" Vonaka bellowed.

"_Gunnery crews are weapons free_," Alli announced as the slaughter began.

The plasma cannon was the pinnacle of space based weaponry inside the Hegemony. While its design had been in use since the conception of the empire it had only been improved on over the millenniums that had passed. Since the Cylons had never been exposed to plasma based weaponry and lacked any form of defense against just one cannon, the results would be devastating.

The _Victory _carried three...

The forward most _Basestar_ wasn't just hit, it was holed. Three beams of concentrated energy from the _Victory_ cut through the ship, exploding out the other side and into the tailing _Basestar_.

The _Dynamic_ and _Commonwealth_ followed suit less than a second later, each ripping an arm off the ship individually with their single cannons. Hundreds of Cylons and Centurions were vaporized instantly, their cloning tanks on the nearby _Resurrection Ship_ remaining dark as not even their programming had time to download as they disappeared into carbonized oblivion.

From the immense cathedral windows of _Resurrection Ship Beta 22_ thousands of Cylons watched in unabated horror as after another barrage of beams struck their damaged escort, the mighty craft exploded into a miniature sun as it secondary drifted listlessly.

In between this the point defense cannons opened fire from the other eleven combat ships of the fleet. Fast and precise pulse lasers picked missiles and enemy fighters out of the air, as a hundred Cylon _Raiders_ were reduced to vaporized atoms in seconds.

"_Their threat level is minimal to us_," Alli reported as she walked the perimeter of the holo-space inside the SIT, studying the battle as Lieutenant Moneti and Captain Upsalon calculated another plasma barrage. "_They lack any form of Neo-steel armor and are reliant on a somewhat advanced nuclear fission core. Overall they would have been a match against us three thousand cycles ago_."

"Good thing we have a couple of millenniums on them," Upsalon harmonized.

* * *

"... with humility and piety we ask for your blessing, oh Lords of Kobol..."

Her voice echoed over the assembled audience and in the massive hanger bay, it only carried further into an unending echo that went on for what felt like forever.

From her vantage point atop the stage she could gaze down on the assembled guests, ranging from political elite to retired generals, all staring up at her with some form of interest or abject boredom. This wasn't one of those ceremonies that were met with celebration or interest but strangely just like her, an aged beauty was being sent out to pasture with as much primp and prompt as they could muster... and it wasn't a lot.

Beyond she could see the museum that occupied the pressurized flight-pod, old-style _Vipers_ she had considered the pinnacle of technology in her youth were now cornered off in red velvet and inert replicas of a Centurion standing with a rifle seemed to have walked right out of her childhood nightmares.

"... and thank you for the protection of ships like this," she continued with her pray as she drew back to attention, "and the brave men and women who manned them..."

It was a long and lengthy prayer but it had one she had learned in her youth in the temples, at the time when these relics were still on the front lines and deep in the war. Sliding close her scroll, she was ushered off stage by the very annoying public relations representative.

"Thank you, ma'am," Aaron quickly smiled at the crowd as he effortlessly pressed the priestess out of the way. "I think it's worth noting that Elosha has now served on the Quorum of Twelve as the _Gemenon_ representative for over fifty years and it's the longest serving member."

He failed to notice the glare Elosha shot him at the apparent unintentional dig at her advance age.

"And now it is my great pleasure to introduce the last commander of the _Battlestar Galactica_..." he swept his hands out like a ring leader at the big event, "Commander Adama."

The aged commander took the podium, enjoying for just a second that the young Doral was almost reluctant to give up his position. Applause was polite, probably a little louder then most of those that had taken the stage but it was probably because there was a fair number of his crew within the ranks adding their approval into the mix. Tapping his note cards on the wooden surface and feeling the crisp, new paper under his fingers, his eyes wandered out onto the crowd as he began to talk.

"The Cylon War is long over," his voice was rusted, grating but it held power. "Yet we must not forget the reasons why so many were asked to sacrifice so much in the cause of freedom. The values we fought for are still worth preserving today."

His eyes searched the crowds, seeking out that one particular face in the groups. Multiple faces looked up at him, the strawberry red hair of the Secretary of Education, the curly hair of her assistant, doesn't of other others but not the face he was looking for... until he found him and then wished that he hadn't seen those eyes staring up at him... his eyes.

"The cost of wearing the uniform can be high, but..." he faltered, his words catching in his thought. His pause was long enough for the audience to notice, people starting to whisper among themselves what was going on. "Sometimes it's too high. You know... we fought the Cylons to save ourselves from extinction, but we never answered the question... why? Why are we as a people worth saving? Look at us. We tell ourselves we're noble, intelligent creatures. Children of the Lords of Kobol. But we'll still let people go to bed hungry because it costs too much to feed the poor... we still commit murder for greed or spite or jealousy..."

It wasn't his speech; it wasn't what he had spent hours writing down and memorizing before he ascended this stage. Instead it was something else, from his heart, a piece of his anatomy he had not spoken to in some time.

"...and we visit all of our sins upon our children," it flowed from him without remorse, without pause. "We refuse to take responsibility for what we've done."

His eyes locked with one of the replica Centurions standing on the far side of the deck, burning into the fake red light that was pulsing behind its visor. It was instinct for anger to rise in his chest.

"...Like we did with the Cylons," it was barley a mumble but because of the microphone on the podium it was loud and clear for the audience to hear. "We decided to play god... create life. And when that life turned against us, we comforted ourselves in the knowledge that it wasn't really our fault, not really. It was the Cylons that were flawed. But the truth is... we're the flawed creation. We're the ones that tried to manufacture life and make it serve us. But you don't play God and then wipe your hands of what you've created. Sooner or later... the day comes when you can't hide from what you've done anymore. A day of reckoning."

He didn't wait for applause or anything remotely close to it for his sudden deviation into self-loathing and none came as not even the breathing of the silent audience echoed in the flight-pod.

"Thank you, Commander Adama," Doral was quick to fill the departure of the man, though a bit confused by the recent speech, "for those... inspiring words."

Adama laid back into his creaking chair, wanting so badly to be free of this place.

Beside him Colonel Tigh merely leaned over and whispered as quietly as he could.

"You are one surprising sonuvabitch..."

"Next, uh... ah...," their attention turned back to Mr. Doral who was trying to recover the situation, "next is a ceremonial flyby by the last _Galactica_ squadron, If I could direct your attention to the view port..."

* * *

"The unknown capital ship is starting to accelerate away from us," Upsalon shouted as he adjusted a holo-screen to track the vessel exclusively. "I think they're going to try and make a jump."

"Fire a volley of anti-proton mass packages," Vonaka declared, "should be enough to disrupt their FTL drive."

"Anti-proton mass packages are loaded," Moneti reported a few seconds behind him.

Vonaka didn't miss a beat. "Firing!"

Ten small dots detached from the icon over the SIT board labeled _Victory_ and sped towards the target blip. Simulated detonations appeared as the anti-proton mass packages met their target.

"There seems to be no effect to their drive systems," Moneti observed as the unknown capital ship continued to speed away. "Performing a deep active scan."

"_Fascinating_," Alli exclaimed as she now appeared in life-size holo-form in front of the bridge officers. Several floating screens appeared in front of her, detailing different portions of the enemy warships and the unknown through cross-sections and detail graphs. "_While their weapons and armor technology seems antiquated, their computer processing is organically based around what appears to be a sentient core being. Anti-protons will have little to no effect on organic technology with a self-aware operator_."

"Then we need a more direct approach," Vonaka understood. "Alli is your present ready."

Alli confirmed as she pulled the viral icon up in front of herself. "_Locked and programmed_."

"Transmit and unload," Vonaka commanded.

* * *

The ocean felt good as it frothed into the ocean side bar and the drinks were flowing just as freely as the water in the waves. The sun was rising on the _Picon_ horizon and it felt good on the skin exposed by her short and skimpy red cocktail dress.

She stabbed her toothpick into another olive and savored the taste of the absorbed alcohol between her teeth. The moment her glass was officially empty the waitress deposited another beside her, walking off to cater to her male patrons who tipped more greedily then this particular woman.

Scooping the pair of olives out of her drink she greedily sucked on them, enjoying the taste that ran across her tongue so deliciously.

Preoccupied in her little world of fine beverages and great atmosphere, it was wonderfully interrupted by the arrival of someone sitting down on the barstool beside her.

"You really like those olives, don't you?" the man commented, signaling the waitress to bring him his own order.

"Maybe," she noted with a coy twinkle in her eyes. "Maybe I just like how I look reaching for them."

She leaned over the top of the bar, enjoying how he looked down the length of her body as she took a sip of her strong but welcoming martini.

"Ellen Tigh," she held out a hand like a woman of high society would and the man gingerly took it, placing a kiss on its skin before pointing a finger up to the waitress.

"Bartender," he tried not to pay attention to the fact the woman coming to take his order was lacking most of her clothing, "let's have another one for the lady."

"Thank you," Ellen nodded for his generosity. "So, you don't have a name?"

"I am a mysterious stranger," his smile was a bit creepy but still she managed a half intoxicated laugh in his direction.

"Ooh!" she giggled. "How fascinating to meet you mysterious stranger."

"And why are you here, Ellen?" he commented, a thick scotch being dropped in front of him by the topless waitress. "I mean, you're so obviously intended for greater things."

"Are you a priest?" her eyes searched him, again because of the four other drinks she had already consumed over the course of the hour. But when he frowned at her actions she was quick to cover her own inebriated state. "Oh, now, now, don't tense up, Mysterious. I'm just saying there's no point in judging anybody. No one changes who they really are."

"If no one is corrected," he inquired, "then no one learns their lessons?"

"Well, I've lived in this world a long time," she raised her glass up to him, the liquid inside sloshing around but she was keen not to let a drop spill, "and I'm proud to say that I haven't learned any godsdamn lessons. If you let someone change you or make you apologize, then you're selling yourself out, you know."

She dissolved into laughter again, as the philosophical discussion was becoming an entertaining distraction from her heavy drinking.

She however failed to notice the frown that crossed the man's face...

* * *

Tβ362O was a classic self-replicating worm program mixed with a Trojan virus. Under the guise of an innocent combat communication between ships Tβ362O quickly slipped inside of the _Resurrection Ship's_ operating systems.

Rushing through cyber-space in a mechanical system was like taking a swim in a smooth, cold river. Cyber-space in an organic operating system was a definite opposite.

Electrical impulses buffered Tβ362O, tossing the program about as it tried to reorient itself within the system. After a few microseconds and a bit of serve time it managed to get a handle on its situation before setting to work.

Since this was an organic system most of its invasive programs were of no use so its adaptable subroutines kicked it. Organic technology was highly complicated yet fluid, far less predictable then a mechanical one. What could work once would be learned, dissected and then all further attempts nullified.

Limited in programming space Tβ362O quickly deduced the best way to trick an organic processor to drop its defenses would be to illicit a hypersensitive immune response from it.

In laymen's terms, an allergic reaction.

By accessing the temperature controls throughout the _Resurrection Ship_, Tβ362O increased the ambient heat to maximum across the ship and then locked the entire system down with several ghost files. Hopefully when the ship's AI tried to fix the program the ghost files would work as diversions, confusing her and sending her off in the wrong directions while the problem continued to perpetuate itself.

Once server space began to move towards repairing the malfunction Tβ362O saw its chance and launched a high-speed viral attack against the system's firewalls.

The first three hundred attempts failed horribly but it quickly changed tactics and found that by overlaying itself onto incoming data streams to the main computer core as fractal portions it could slide right by.

But Tβ362O's arrival in the main core had not go unnoticed.

The system's AI had found Tβ362O... and she was alive.

Mechanical operators, sophisticated AI's, even organic operators plugged into a system would be a cinch to counteract but an organic being hybridized into a functioning computer was another thing.

She immediately launched a widespread deletion algorithm at Tβ362O, coasting several valuable megabytes of data before retaliation could be mounted.

A spread of several thousand-ghost files managed to crash her link to several of her outlying decks, giving Tβ362O the needed server space to rebuild and re-launch a devoted portion of his digital infrastructure.

The Hybrid found herself suddenly bombarded by a multi-adaptable attack programs, designed to cause absolute destruction and requiring critical server space to correct. Server space that now left her firewalls down.

Tβ362O rushed for the strike and in one critical instance managed to quickly dissolve the Hybrid's link to the system, completely breaking her. The cascade failure of the ship's internal systems would have been beautiful if Tβ362O had eyes, numerous databases now surged information into its matrix and complete control of the system reasserted itself into its domain.

But Tβ362O was smart enough to know that was too easy.

Part of that was answered came a nano-second later. In its haste to take the core by force it had failed to notice several surprises the Hybrid had left behind.

Tβ362O was hit on all fronts by a broadband malware program, ensuring that portions of the information nexus were thoroughly wiped out so Tβ362O would never have a chance to utilize them. If too much damage was done the entire system would collapse in on itself, taking the little virus with it.

Launching several recovery programs and a viral search algorithm Tβ362O intercepted and deleted numerous fail-safes before they could be tripped and caught many more before they could do any damage.

As it recovered and released its drones into the system, one of its viral search algorithms came scurry back out of the data-fed with something it had found, like a little puppy eagerly bringing its master a toy to see.

Tβ362O's attention was piqued…

* * *

Caprican orbit was a mess of ships, coming and going every moment for their destinations among the Colonies, the various habitats and moons across the solar system. Twenty five-billion people and _Caprica_ was the hub of almost any civilian ship's route. Everyday more then ten-thousand people came and went from her orbiting spaceport of _Rhapsody Station_, the largest space borne facility in the Twelve Worlds.

Holding position in geo-synchronous orbit over Delphi to make use of the massive landing port on the surface nearly thirty thousand-people, a third of which were Colonial officers, lived and worked onboard the massive 2800-meter long mega-structure.

_Rhapsody _was a shining beacon of Colonial engineering, second to the _Scorpia Shipyards, Picon Fleet Command_ and _Astra Anchorage._ Every day she provided her docking bays to dozens of civilian ships and numerous _Battlestars, _offering a port of call for a myriad of vessels in the dark void of space_._

"_This is Captain Sunday Simpson on Rhapsody approach_," a voice echoed in the void, "_Libra Fox eight-sixty call sign Marrow, VFR on the top. Requesting final docking vectors_."

From the distant blue horizon of _Caprica_ a cargo ship roared into high orbit, rolling itself into position with the rapidly approaching space station.

"_Rhapsody Station_ to _Marrow_," Flight Control cadet Pallin Roy responded from inside the _Rhapsody_ Control Tower. "Enter holding pattern Rhapsody Alpha-Three. _Ocean Fern_ has a bent maneuvering rudder, we're holding them until the unit can be repaired."

"_Understood Rhapsody_," Captain Simpson confirmed as she spun the _Marrow_ into high orbit around the station's axis. "_Entering holding pattern Alpha-Three_."

Exhausted and disinterested in his duty Pallin pulled the head set over his head and threw it over his console, trying not to wince at the protesting static that filled the air.

It had been a long day and Gods forsake him he was on the end half of the night swing shift. Too much ambrosia after a heated breakup with his girlfriend had left him drained and over-stressed, disinterested with everything life had to offer.

"Long night, cadet?" Jeffery Skia asked, tossing a cup of hot steaming coffee in front of his partner.

"You're one to talk, cadet," Pallin muttered back in a sour tone. "You drank as much as me last night, how come you're not as hung over?"

Skia just smiled as he waved the off the comment and headed for his station.

Around them consoles beeped, chirped and glowed, showing dradis and video feeds of the surrounding ships. Usually this post was manned by thirty or forty cadets and a few officers to supervise during the day.

During the night however it was just the two of them.

"Frak my console is malfunctioning again," Roy cursed as he angrily banged a fist on a station, "it's throwing out dradis ghosts again."

His dradis station was again on the fritz, the third time this week. More than thirty icons had suddenly materialized on his screen, probably just a bummed sensor pallet feeding false data on the still approaching _Marrow. _There was no way something that small could just appear out of nowhere, this deep inside their dradis range and not come from a jump drive. Nothing that small could afford a FTL-drive, so obvious it was another malfunction by his machine.

"I'll call maintenance to check it out," Jeffery yelled from the other side of the room, "transfer over to station eleven until then."

It was late... maintenance would take hours to get up here and since their night time departures were slim the normal routine of notifying their supervising officer was ignored. They were young, recovering from a long night out gambling with the swing shift crew again and drinking their emotions away, so their judgment was clouded by ambition and arrogance.

But what they deemed 'a technical screw up' was something far, far worse.

So when thirty _Raiders_ opened up with a full salvo of four nuclear weapons each, the resounding impacts and destruction that followed would be on their heads. It meant little though as the two cadets were among the first few thousand that died.

The first nuke slammed into the super structure of _Rhapsody Station_, cracking her open like an egg along her weakest point. Most of the crew was caught in their bunks, as it was six in the morning Caprican Orbital Time. Eight-thousand Colonial officers died when they were either vaporized in nuclear hellfire or the resulting explosive decompression that tore chunks of the facility into space. Whatever the reason it meant little as more nukes came, a wing of six impacted down upon the station from its north pole, piercing the hexagonal shaped head of the main command hub and sending it listing onto its side.

During this whole span of time ships of all kinds scattered in every directions trying to escape the disaster. A _Colombia_-class _Battlestar_ swerved to avoid drifting debris, only to crash right into a civilian cargo ship. While the much larger _Battlestar_ easily crushed the vessel like an elephant dealing with a mouse, the surprise however came when the fact that the ship had been a tylium hauler became apparent. The massive explosion ripped through the alligator shaped head of the _Battlestar Eros_, killing her entire command staff and a large number of the crew as it cleaved off a good third of the warship.

Carnage unseen since the last Cylon War doomed everything in the space around _Rhapsody Station_, the _Battlestar Athena_ exploded violently when a nuke roared past its flak field and right into the open landing space of its starboard flight-pod. When the weapon detonated the blast sheered the vessel in haft. Four commercial passenger liners, the _Arcada_, _Brutus_, _Kelestra_ and the _Euphrates_, tried to jump out to safety but a wandering missile hit the _Brutus_ a stern and the shock-wave took all but the _Kelestra_ with it, crippling the latter in the act.

Few escaped the attack, most of them being the lucky few who were on departure from _Caprica_ space when the strike occurred. The mining ship _Majahaul _nearly burnt out their FTL computer calculating a split second jump to safety as two missiles screamed through the space it once occupied. Its sister ships the _Narcissus_ and _Meriwether_ unfortunately took the hits instead.

In the span of more than two minutes since their appearance, the thirty Cylon _Raiders_ had unleashed one hundred and twenty nuclear devices into the highest traffic area in the entire Twelve Colonies. Eight _Battlestars_, one hundred and six civilian ships, the whole of _Rhapsody Station_ and over sixty thousand people were snuffed out in less than two hundred and twenty one seconds.

And that's where it stopped.

The _Raiders_ had intended a much large kill to escape ratio in their original estimates. The fighters they had deployed were specifically been designed for this area of space, stripped of most of their fuel, electronics and maneuvering thrusters, loaded to the breaking point with almost twelve nukes per ship. The second they jumped into Caprica orbit they were intended to launch their payloads, transmit the kill switch program and sit back and watch the fireworks before using the remainder of their ordinances to take out those that had been disabled but survived the first wave. Objective one and two had been completed but number three had stalled. When the _Raiders_ activated the backdoor program they instead found their systems failing. In the first two minutes of the new Cylon War the number one cause of death among Cylon _Raiders_ became accidental impact with other _Raiders_.

All thirty ships had been simply turned off and left to drift.

While those on and around the space station panicked, fled and died, the _Raiders_ had simply faded into cyberspace nothing and lazily floated onward as inertia carried them into _Caprica's_ atmosphere where each one burned up in a fiery death or impacted with the debris of _Rhapsody Station_.

When the recon _Raiders_ jumped in to report the outcome of the battle five minutes after the initial ambush they found not a soul alive, Cylon or otherwise. Upon reporting back to the main fleet, Cylon High Command logged the first battle of their new war as a tactical victory, thinking that one of the _Battlestars_ at the base had been lucky enough to get close to destroy their _Raiders_. As the second wave found no survivors on either side they assumed each had destroyed the other. Being as they were more Colonial wrecks then Cylon they figured as much.

So when the order came to send in the main force no one realized the ultimate mistake that had happened in the Cylon's blind joy of bringing an end to their creators.

In years to come that moment would be known as the _Massacre of Rhapsody_ to the Colonials… and the _Blunder at Rhapsody_ to the Cylons.

No matter what they called it was the start of the new Cylon War.

A _Basestar_ jumped into low orbit, then another... ten... twenty... they kept appearing one after another in a flash of dazzling lights.

From her vantage point above the assembling armada, the hybrid looked down upon the Colony below her with detached logic. It was a beautiful world, though it was lost in a haze of digital information and crisscrossing sensor feeds. Instead of seeing the jewel of the Twelve Colonies, she instead saw a world with a above average level of oxygen content, three major continent clustered together by a massive ocean, one lone landmass along the southern pole locked forever in ice, and a score of cities that seemed to blossom out like great concrete flowers.

"Counting down," her voice echoed in the lonely chamber. "All functions nominal. All functions optimal. Counting down. The center holds. The falcon hears the falconer. Infrastructure, check. Wetware, check. Everyone hand on to the life bar, please."

Around her she could sense the arrival of her fellow sister hybrids, some who's minds she had not encountered in years were greeting her with warm scans and file transfers. Twelve more _Basestars_ joined her growing armada, including one of the colossal _Resurrection Ships _that filled her sensors with its enormity and elegance.

"Apotheosis was the beginning before the beginning," again her voice echoed inside her lonesome auditorium. "Devices on alert. Observe the procedures of a general alert. The base and the pinnacle. The flower inside the fruit that is both its parent and its child. Decadent as ancestors. The portal and that which passes. All units begin attack runs..."

* * *

She awoke slowly, for a second everything was lost in a bleary haze but quickly it came back into focus. Stretching, she enjoyed the released tension dissolving in her limbs, even more she enjoyed the warmth of the unmoving body beside her.

It was wonderful, pleasurable… and then she realized what today was.

Rolling from the mattress, she padded across the floor of the bedroom, sliding the door closed behind her and making for the living room. It was Spartan in decoration, a small sofa and a coffee table was all that was afforded to an Admiral.

Sliding on her overalls she abandoned the night before, she grabbed her discard clothes, picking each one up and hastily putting each on as quietly as she could… making even more of an effort to silently snake the stolen identification card into her pocket.

"Callie?" a sleepy voice rang out but already she was out the door.

Out into the hall, she quickly was lost in the crowds, just another mechanic going about her day, just one of the three-thousand personnel that serviced, staffed and made up _Colonial Fleet Headquarters_. Moving passed a pair of wide windows; she couldn't help and stop, admiring the coasting horizon of turquoise _Picon_ below.

In a few hours the endless oceans of _Picon_ would be radioactive steam.

The restricted sections were emptier, easily she slide through the security doors without anyone being the wiser, though few would pay attention to a systems analyst walking through the engineering section. Down a long series of stairs, across catwalks that towered over cavernous expanses, through small tunnels of piping and around dozens of tiny alcoves.

"Halt," the guard held up his hands, forcing a strong arm into her chest and stopping her in her tracks. "Authorized personnel only past this point."

"Oh," she grinned, giggling in an airhead manner. "I must have gotten-"

Her hands snacked up in a flash of colors and before the guard knew what was going on, his arm was snapped at the wrist and a terrible pain exploded through his body.

"Argh!" his entire body involuntarily convulsed in agony, broken bones popping in his forearm… giving her enough time to snatch the pistol out of his holster, point it skyward and pressing the trigger.

The guard hit the ground, a burning hole in the bottom of his chin and a brilliant red splash dripping down the wall behind him.

Pocketing the pistol into the side of her belt, she stepped over the body and snatching the identification card out of her pocket. A quick slide into the computer lock, entering the code she has seduced from the Admiral last night and a green flash from the light above her head and she was inside.

Not a moment too soon as the overhead alarms began to ring out.

"_This is the Admiral," _she tried not to flinch when she heard his voice, hastening her pace at bit._ "We have unidentified contacts entering dradis range. All crews to actions stations, repeat all crews to actions stations."_

Down the steps, across the bridge, trying not to chance a glance downward at the black abyss below her.

"_Battlestars Heracles and Sestus are launching, eta four-minutes," _another voice, younger, more panicked announced._ "Tannus and Krishana are moving to intercept."_

The thrum of burning energy hummed above her head, a clear sign she was fast approaching her objective. Slowly the overhead lights began to dim, as only the flash of the occasional klaxon brought her any illumination in the tightening walkway.

"_Tannus is reporting direct hits," _an authoritive voice rang out, his voice distant and hurried as shouts echoed in the background._ "Commander Townsend is ordering a tactical retreat. Secondary batteries redeploy to cover. Gaea and Xipe are coming about."_

Reaching one of the side alcoves, she wasted no time rummaging around in her side pockets. She worked the small box out of its spot, hidden in the stitching of her clothing. Fabric tore free, a few bits and pieces of thread still clung on to the object, as she finally fished it free.

"_Hostiles are closing to firing range," _a panicked female voice yelled over the intercom._ "Viper wing forty-two and thirty-one, your formation has to tighten."_

The floor shuddered and for a moment she paused.

This deep inside the station such an impact was serious. Most likely the hull had been compromised from a nuclear impact, from the way the floor had taken a slight tilt she quested somewhere along the lower quadrants… right along the habitat modules.

"_Frames forty through sixty are venting to space_," a terrified woman shouted over the speakers and she tried to shut it out even as the yelling intensified. _"We've lost the Gaea! Oh Gods, she's gone!"_

Shutting it all out she set to work, attaching the proper wires, locking in the arming codes, trying to concentrate even as the battle played out unseen around her.

"_Hostile capital ships are inside the firing perimeter."_

"_Radiological alarm! We have nukes inbound!"_

"_Enemy ships have activated a jamming field. We've lost all contact with our forces!"_

"_All batteries fire at will. Launch a Raptor wing to Caprica to apprise them of our situation!"_

The device clicked and for a moment she paused, armed and ready she suddenly found her fingers shaking, dread in her hands, an urge to vomit was becoming overpowering. For the first time in her long time of seduction, infiltration, backstabbing and sly talking… she felt a powerful pang of guilt that she had done something wrong.

"Hey!" she whipped her head around to see some distant shadow on a far off overhang yelling down to her. "What are you doing?"

_No_, she squashed it,_ the mission has to come first. _

Her fist slammed down on the trigger… and five seconds later the G-4 detonator exploded, taking her, everything around her for several meters… along with the lower portion of the station's armor casing around the main fusion reactor.

Superheated cooling water spilled out, dousing the explosion in seconds but actually worsening the damage. Without the liquid protection to cool the nuclear rods inside, the temperature began to spike. 2,000 degrees, already the control rods were burning through their housing and a meltdown was in progress.

A few more seconds and the nuclear fuel inside would…

The final, real explosion took out the entire subsection of the station, the eruption of pressure and force tore the station's entire lower flank off.

_Colonial Fleet Headquarters_ went dark, without its main reactor it had neither the power to keep its lights active… or its guns.

Without protection, listing out of control and fires exploding forth as hull breaches bleached superheated atmosphere free, it was easy pickings for the Cylon invaders who wasted little time taking out the entire leadership of their hated Colonial enemies…

* * *

It was an outgoing file upload, still floating in cyberspace as he had ousted the Hybrid that caught its attention. She hadn't been much of a threat because all of her processing power had been devoted to completing this singular program and then uploading it in high-resolution data. Nothing else mattered to her, if it hadn't been there as a prefect distraction, Tβ362O's entire intrusion would have been a disastrous failure.

Tβ362O opened a limited summary on the outgoing transmission and suddenly it saw a new toy to play with, something that had to be corrupted or the Cylon's would certainly know their fleet was under attack if the upload went uncompleted.

It was a one in a million chance, well much closer to a billion but rounding for computers made it easier to keep track of the near undistinguishable number that something like this could have happened to ruin the Cylon's ultimate plan to destroy the Colonies.

It was almost luck that right as the Space Guard battle-group jumped in the computers onboard _Resurrection Beta 22_ had just completed the final program needed to finish the last critical portion of the Cylon's master plan.

It had no idea that it had just saved the Twelve Colonies of Kobol from almost certain extinction.

It was absolutely impossible but it still was amazing that Tβ362O somehow found its way into the program and started to corrupt it in ways that even the evolved mechanized brains of the Cylon's greatest programmers could never understand.

And it should never have happened that the final act of _Resurrection Beta 22_ was to transmit that program to the Cylon main fleet to be used in the first strike against the Colonies.

While it looked like a near prefect design to use for those intending to unleash it, they never knew that the moment they added the last piece of the puzzle to its grand design... it would ultimately dissolve into a doomed design.

The program _Resurrection Beta 22_ had been calculating was the virus signal needed to activate the backdoor program in the Colonial networked computers. Being corrupted by only a single kilobyte by Tβ362O, the entire design was effectively neutered, the action removing the singular command '_off_' and replacing with a similar but different command.

While this seemed to be almost redundant it took a keen artificial intelligence devoted entirely to computer hacking and cyberspace warfare to understand that in the world of ones and zeros, a command as such could be written in plain English the same way but in the world of computers it was like speaking two different languages that had evolved totally separate from one another.

The most basic way to explain the new situation was that Tβ362O had just simply cut and pasted one command from one system to another. It had removed the '_off_' in Colonial programming and replaced it with the Cylon equivalent. Three hundred trillion zeros and ones, yet it only took a four number re-sequenced in a new order to turn the entire thing backwards.

The crafty little virus has intended to use the program to invade other Cylon ships, a mutated outgrowth of its original objective. It had no idea that the Hybrid, kept barely alive by her connection to the _Resurrection Ship _and shear willpower, would transmit the program before Tβ362O could totally prefect it and use against the surviving _Basestar_.

Neither the Hybrid nor Tβ362O could understand the disastrous repercussions they were going to cause when other Cylon ships used the program.

For when they activated their backdoor shut down program to the Colonial computers they would find the virus never transmitted.

It instead let itself loss on its creator's systems.

Where once the Cylons had meant to shut down every Colonial ship in its range, those transmitting it would simply disable themselves.

Not that the officers on the _Victory_, the artificial intelligence who designed it or even the Cylons themselves knew what had happened until much later.

Not until the real irony of the situation became apparent.

But in the meantime Tβ362O had another problem.

They Hybrid was trying to log back into the system and she was bringing friends. Tβ362O rose it's firewalls, deployed a dozen wide-range polymorphic codes, several hundred ghost files and copy itself a dozen times while leaving its sister programs to roam free, doing further damage.

When the Hybrid finally broke Tβ362O's firewalls she launched an immediate reprisal...

* * *

"Gaius..."

He was still enjoying his post-coital slumber, bending his spine so it cracked in all the right places. It was only after chill ran through his body and his mind started to wake did he realize it was not the voice of the very naked woman sleeping beside him

Sitting up bolt upright, there she was, sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, almost like she belong there with her platinum blonde hair framing her piercing eyes.

But instead of showing outrage or anger, she just seemed to waiting for something.

"What are you doing here?" he managed to get out, though his words however managed to wake the dark haired beauty lying beside him.

"Who the hell are you!" she clutched the covers over her bare chest even as she shot death glares at this woman and the man beside her, wondering if she again had been caught in another affair with a married man.

"Get out," it wasn't an order; it was a plain threat from the woman at the foot of the bed.

"Gaius, who is this woman?" his companion asked.

"A friend..." he stammered and quickly realized he was just digging himself into a deeper hole with the party he was in the most trouble with. "Well, more than a friend, but-"

"Get... out," the blonde again hissed through clenched teeth.

Knowing better to get into a lover quarrels, the dark haired woman gathered up her scattered pieces of clothing and made a hasty exit.

"This is just great," she mumbled under her breath, hitching her heels over her shoulders and wrapping her skirt to cover her nether regions.

With her departure... it meant he was at the mercy of the court and about to have a death sentence handed over to him.

"It's me," he threw up his hands in disgust and began to throw himself under the bus. "I'm screwed up. Always have been. It's a flaw in my character that I've always hated and tried to overcome, but-"

"Spare me your feigned self-awareness and remorse," she fixed him with a glare and he was silent. "I came here because I have something to tell you. Baltar is more than happy to change the subject."

"Oh... okay," he wondered out loud and with a fair amount of confusion as to why he wasn't being torn to shreds right now. "I'm listening."

She rose up from her chair, walking through the first rays of sunlight that were streaming through the bedroom windows in her slinky black dress and enjoying the rising warmth in her skin in the otherwise cold room.

"Consider for a moment the relationship of a child to its parent," she finally said after a beat.

"Philosophy. At... five in the morning," his words only garnered him a look that sent him backpedaling. "Which is fine. Great. Fine. Absolutely."

"Children are born to replace their parents," she postulated. "That is God's plan. God plans the death of one's parents to be a critical component of a child's development into adulthood."

"Nothing worse than parents that hang around too long," he tried to make a joke, hoping that make light of the situation. "Mine certainly did."

That only caused her to shot him another withering glare.

"God wants children to grow and develop on their own," she continued. "He wants them to reach their full potential. And so it is that parents must die. But parents who stand in the way of God's plan, who defy his will... they must be struck down."

Something was going wrong, her voice was starting to give him the chills.

"What's going on..." he had to ask, even if he was afraid to get an answer.

"Humanity's children are returning home," she paused for just a second. "Today..."

* * *

"_Vonaka_," Alli stated, "_I think I have a problem with my virus_."

"What's wrong?" Volaska asked. If there was a serious problem with a computer based weapon from their resident computer then it only meant trouble for everyone else.

"_The enemy computer system tried to retaliate with a viral protection engine I've never seen_," she put in plain words for those not versed in cyber-warfare to understand. "_I think being that their systems were more organically based it launched an attack more akin to a immune response then a computer firewall. The virus adapted but has evolved into a more complex design that is no longer responding to my commands. It is functioning on its own and I can't stop it_."

"Prepare a standard swipe and wipe," Upsalon ordered, following standard procedure to ensure that a rogue virus didn't spread. "That should be enough to take it out."

But Alli only shook her head, pixelized bangs swaying to and fro. "_I tried but it erected its own firewalls against my transmission. It's protecting the network while it's taking over_."

"Which vessel did it infect?" Vonaka asked as he moved towards the SIT.

"_The unknown capital ship_," Alli informed him as she appeared back inside the holo-space in her micro-size. "_My estimates already confirm it has near total supremacy over the system and the sentient core is nearing a system crash_."

"Make that total supremacy," Moneti corrected. "Sensors are reading atmosphere venting from the ship. I think your virus decided it didn't want the crew interfering so it spaced them."

"_Tachyon-Beta-Three-Six-Two-Omicron was a basic combat intrusion and jammer program_," Alli detailed the virus and its features. "_Advance enough to wipe out the networked computers onboard a ship like that but it wasn't designed to deal with an organic information processing system. It's jumped from cyberspace to neural space and it's running amok. Literally it has evolved from a computer attack file to a pseudo-intelligent biological virus_."

"Is their anyway to disable it?" Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss inquired.

"_Negative_," Alli discontinued, a floating holographic chart appeared listing her several dozen attempts to contact her former counterpart._ "It has already absorbed five of my attempts to shut it down and at my current estimates of its growth is correct it may soon be able to launch its own attack against us. I'm good, but I'm not that good. Facing an organic computer controlled by a virus designed by me, I will almost certainly loss and it will infect the Victory and the rest of the fleet._"

"Then we amputate the wound before the infection spreads," Volaska alleged. "Full salvo of offensive kinetic kill missiles followed by a full salvo of defense kinetic kill missiles and _Odin_ drones for mop up."

Contallia was surprised by the shear firepower the admiral was ordering. "Isn't that a little much?"

"That virus has one purpose, to spread without interruption," Vonaka surmised. "We're an interruption and I sure as hell intend to be a big one."

"Missiles loaded," Upsalon confirmed, "targets acquired, _Odin_ drones are closing."

"Fire!" the admiral ordered.

An offensive kinetic kill missile was the main long-range ship to ship combat weapon in the Guard. Small in size, surrounding a fist sized, kilogram warhead and able to accelerate to ninety-five percent the speed of light and do atomic blast level damage upon impact, they were deadly weapons. Most only had the range of one-light minute worth of fuel.

Yet the Cylon target was less than ten light seconds away.

Forty together were like a swarm of angry hornets, each carrying a miniature nuke, racing towards a slow moving whale in a sea of stars.

After them came forty defensive kinetic kill missiles, moving slower then an offensive missile at only sixty percent the speed of light. They were only a third of their companion's size and intended for enemy fighters, but also were effective at eliminating surviving sections of destroyed enemy ships.

When the offensive ordinance struck the fragile spider-like superstructure forty kinetic detonations shattered the ship into thousands of exploding shards. Glass and metal melted under the extreme heat as they were reduced to molten slag. Few sections larger than a foot of debris survived but the defensive missiles took care of that, each disappearing into tiny of miniatures suns as the warheads scattered to follow the expanding field of death. Whatever was left the _Odin _drones finished off with their much more compact but equally as deadly plasma cannons.

By the end nothing larger than a few stray pieces of scrap no bigger than the palm of most humanoid's hands remained, none saved from the scarring of hellfire.

Anything onboard, organic, cybernetic or other was gone.

* * *

"Nuclear devices activated," the hybrid's voice reflected off the surrounding walls, almost ethereal and eerie as the lone woman continued to talk away to no one in particular save a single Centurion holding position in the far corner. "The machine keeps pushing time through the cogs, like paste into strings into paste again, and only the machine keeps using time to make time to make time..."

In her world of ones and zeros, the outside events were unfolding in a logical display of pre-planned precision. Two _Basestars_ reconfigured for an atmospheric insertion, several squadrons of _Raiders_ moved into to join them in preparations for the ground strikes.

"And when the machine stops," she continued to utter over and over again. "Time is an illusion that we created. Free will, twelve glorious battles, three stars, and yet we are countless as the bodies in which we dwell. Are both parent and infinite children in perfect copies. No degradation."

Over the loudspeakers in the heart of the _Basestar,_ the hybrid musings played out as the assembled Cylons listened intently. Screens displayed the approaching battle, the planet below them was growing closer in the liquid data-feeds. Sixes, Eights, Fours, multiple models of Cylons all watched intently as the coming storm grew closer.

"_The makers of the makers fall before the child_," her voice echoed over the room, barely a noticeable background music of sort to accompany the images they were watching. "_Accessing defense system. Handshake, handshake. Second level clear_."

"It's begun," a Four commented, his hands flexing in one of the nearby data-streams. "Colonial units are inbound."

"Let them come," a Two barely bated an eye at the approaching enemy ships. "They won't be a threat for long."

Outside in the surrounding space three _Battlestars_ began to make their approach, the trio of crafts both perplexed and weary by the Cylon's sudden appearance in orbit. Though they had no idea who these vessels belonged to, they still had to be careful.

A single Viper took point, one pest at the front of the flock.

"_Viper 451_, Tito, to _Yashuman_," the voice of Alexander '_Tito_' Jerome. "Heavy bogeys, six plus, lower orbit, over grid 15-2."

"_Yashuman actual confirms_," the sound of Commander Angela Barnes clicked over the wireless. "_Six heavy bogeys over grid 15-2. Can you confirm Colonial_?"

Before the windows of his cockpit one of the many starfish-like ships that were looming overhead and the sense of terrible dread continued to rise in his gullet.

"Contact is not Colonial," he chirped inside his helmet. "Repeat, no joy Colonial."

"_Repeat again, Tito_," again Commander Barnes pushed him for a confirmation. "_These things are the size of Battlestars and they're not Colonial_?"

"Go to your window and look up," his cool was starting to wane as now he could see the dozens of tiny dots he at first thought were tiny shooting stars were now growing into approaching fighters. "They're big as frakking asteroids!"

"_Yashuman actual copies. Standby_," Barnes voice was stressed, even over the wireless he could hear the strain coming through the speakers. "_Valkyrie actual and Thor actual, can you also confirm bogeys_."

"_Valkyrie actual confirms_," Commander Tyler Palmer deep voice affirmed into his wireless speaker.

"_Thor actual confirms_," Commander Chandra Bell asserted. "_We are tracking contacts inside the planetary gravity well and into the atmosphere. Frakkers are past most of the early warning sensors_."

During the entire exchange the approaching fleet only increased in size, already the stars were being blotted out by the sheer number of fighters that were swarming into his view. Tito was starting to get concerned, sweat was starting to pile in the back of his helmet and his breath was coming in quicker, shorter spurts.

"_Yashuman_, Tito," his voice rang in his helmet. "Can we make a decision right godsdamned now, 'cause we got multiple inbound, and they're not carrying flowers."

One of the approaching aircraft seemed to be opening a red line across its forward bulb, a long glowing pulse flashed over the _Viper_ and for just an instance Tito waited for something to happen.

Aboard the _Basestar_, the hybrid noted the unaccompanied _Viper_ approaching her lines of battle ready fighters. The viral transmission from the _Raiders_ wasn't working properly, none of the units had reported the activation of the backdoor programs inside the CNP systems.

This lone _Viper_ would be her first test subject, the first proof of her sisters hard work and effort.

"Initiating scan," her internal systems began to prepare the necessary equipment and prep the viral programs for deployment. "Love outlasts death. Their ships fail. Skittering like skipped stones..."

"It's been a long time coming," a lone Two commented as he gave the all clear for the hybrid to launch her strike.

"God's will is finally to be done," One nodded beside him.

"_And their movement is meaningless in the absence of time_," the hybrid's voice boomed through the command center. "_What never was is never again_."

A Six glanced back towards one of the several Centurions that held post around the room, blankly staring off in its standby mode, waiting for some untold orders to come.

"I bet they don't understand what we're doing for them?" she commented, eyes traveling down over the bullet shaped head and down to the gleaming chrome torso.

"I think they're grateful in their own way," Five commented with a knowing smile of smug satisfaction.

"I know I'd be," Eight nodded beside him. "Hybrid is transmitting the package."

A red glare washed over Colonial battle-group, like a wave of particles shuddering in the ocean. It was like the Gods had waved a hand over his charges and for an instance the Cylons held their breath.

"_Failure_," a collective gasp of horror and confusion rose in the assemble Cylons. "_Divergent scans. The ants have fallen. The herring swims free_..."

"What is going on?" Three shouted, lost in the endless stream of data piling in she was at a loss for the situation.

"The scan failed..." Eight shot into the conversation, gaining what little insight she could from the news coming in from their companions. "Three _Basestars_ offline, over a hundred _Raiders_. We have multiple system failures on ten others."

"What the frak is-" her criticism was lost as a new report arrived.

"Colonial _Battlestars_ are within striking distance," Six announced. "We have _Vipers_ inbound."

"What do we do?" Four asked the most obvious, a rising frown on his lips.

"Order all _Raiders_ to engage," Eight yelled. "Bring us around and fire at will. Launch the nukes!"

_Raiders_ sprung into action, afterburners kicking in and wings of the tiny crafts vaulted forward and towards the approaching Colonials.

"_Yashuman_, Tito," Jerome tried to keep his words leveled and clear, even with a terrible threat bearing down on him. "Enemy fighters are accelerating to attack speeds. I have multiple dradis contacts incoming."

"_Tito, this is Yashuman actual_," the sound of Barne's words warbled as he leaned back into his seat. "_We are declaring bogeys classed hostile. All crews to action stations. Vipers move into position and prepare to engage_."

"_Blue leader, do you read me_?" the deep Virgonese accent of his fellow pilot Madden Kusangi sang over the channels. "_One of my bogeys just went dead in the water, two others are going dark inside Valkyrie airspace_."

"_Relaying information to Valkyrie's CAP_," Pilot Craig Hoffman called out from several kilometers away. "_Prepare to engage the enemy fighter squadrons_.

"_Yashuman_ has established firing solution," Tito divulged into his speakers. "All _Vipers_ clear ordinance zone on vectors 76-1 and 71-1."

"_Yashuman firing at will_!" Hoffman shouted.

The _Hood_-class _Battlestar_ took its target, the closest of the incoming _Basestars_. Lining up her solution she waited just an instance before letting loose with her forward cannons. Four dual heavy batteries took position, locked and fired.

Eight fat, burning bullets lashed out, crossing the void in a flash of light before slamming into central pylon of the nearest offending _Basestar_. With little defenses up and already lost in the confusion, the craft rocked and exploded violent, explosions racing up along the upper portions of the craft and shattering one of the _Basestar's_ arms into a thousand pieces of flying debris.

Little reprieve followed as the _Thor_ and _Valkyrie_ found their locks and followed their sister ship into combat. Another _Basestar_ took a hit while a lucky round scored a strike on the nearby _Resurrection Ship_.

More glass then armor, the fragile craft was holed. Atmosphere and fire exploded out into space as the structure of the craft began to break apart. The damage was too much as the vessel drifted, lost in its death throes.

Its demise spurred the _Raiders_ into battle and the _Vipers_ rushed to meet them.

The _Battle of Caprica_ had begun...

* * *

"Sir, the other enemy ship is starting to spin their FTL drive!" Moneti yelled. "Estimate one minute until they can jump."

"_The Dynamic, Ajax and Commonwealth are closing now_," Alli reported as the three green icons broke formation and pursued the red blip on the SIT.

"Sir," Upsalon called, "the enemy ship's main power plant is fusion based. In theory an atomic nullification generation could in theory shut down all energy production on board."

"Triangulate with _Dynamic_ and _Commonwealth_," Volaska ordered, "that should be enough lay down a proper field of suppression energy."

The atomic energy nullification generator was an invention developed by most worlds where the threat of nuclear holocaust was ever present. By creating an energy field of polaron particles the generators could render the reaction of Lithium 6 and Deuterium atoms inert, in doing so a nuclear reaction could never occur. This paved the way for creating the first and successful form of disabling a nuke without heavy missile interception systems.

Pre-unified Earth used them to defend their major cities during the mid-21st century as protection against nuclear strikes. This however just prompted the world superpowers to develop alternative and far more destruction weapons.

AEN generations were a standard piece of technology on almost any Space Guard ship. Used in conjunction with two or more ships they could create a sophisticated grid in which no nuclear reactions could occur. Once activated the Cylons found their ship completely without power and drifting, allowing the Guard fleet to move in for the next round of the battle.

The 95SpineαǼ, like any Space Guard fleet, carried an average amount of security officers along with one ship strictly designated as a troop transport. This allowed _Victory_ and her subordinates to deploy several hundred armed officers for everything from planet fall operations and ship boarding actions.

Twenty _Romanov_ troop carriers detached from their respective warships and raced towards the listing _Basestar_. Snaking around the disabled craft each fired bucking cables to stabilize themselves, just before they slammed into the ship's hull and started to burn their way through.

Avoiding the arms as the most critical damage from the battle had been taken there, the carriers concentrated on main pylon where the least collateral had been taken and the main Cylon force was expected to be.

The moment the hull was broken and a seal was established the special feature of the _Romanov_ came into play.

Four model Threes, a Six and several Centurions on the other side were more than surprised as they were suddenly blinded. All were prepared behind a hip height row of crates for an intense fire fight, instead the doors opened and four automated launchers inside the _Romanov's_ airlock sent four flash grenades in all directions.

The flash of light momentarily activated all the photosensitive cells in the humanoid form Cylon's retinas, making vision impossible for twenty seconds. At the same time a wave of fluctuating magnetic radiation raced unseen through the hallway. While too light to do any real damage it disrupted most computer systems in the same sense a flash grenade did for organics, stunning the Centurions into a reboot for thirty seconds.

Just enough time for the ten soldiers onboard the carrier to establish a beachhead and take down a few of their opponents.

While the biological Cylon body was designed for their tremendous stamina and strength they were still only mortal. So when a round of plasma struck the disoriented Six in the chest she dropped dead. One of the Threes had just enough time to regain her sight to see her other two sister models cut down.

"Retreat!" she ordered as the remaining seven Centurions began to open fire. She wasted little time and used her machine servants to make a hasty retreat towards the command and control center.

The fear of dying was very prevalent in her mind. Not the quasi-death they al experienced before resurrecting in their new bodies but the real end, the great oblivion, the final download. With the moment the _Resurrection Ship_ went berserk to when the aliens destroyed it every Cylon onboard knew that if they died, that was it.

She wasn't supposed to be here. She was suppose be on the Colonial ship _Harrak _posing at small time tabloid reporter D'Anna Biers. Instead her transport had been caught just as she was boarding, trapping her on this god-forsaken vessel just in time to die.

She would have preferred the white endless life in oblivion of being boxed then the black nothing of death.

* * *

The passenger cabin was crowded, a little cramped considering they had taken on some of the tourists from _Galactica's_ decommissioning. Men and women dressed in Colonial uniforms, crewmen hauling their bags along but still Laura couldn't help but enjoy the cool leather under along her backside.

"_Ladies and Gentlemen,"_ the captain came on over the loudspeakers,_ "the airlock is secured, we're pulling away from Galactica now and about to begin our flight back to Caprica..."_

Outside she watched the inner walls of the flight-pod peeled away and the endless realm of space overtook everything. It went on forever, the occasional star glittering faraway and it was unmarred until an old style _Viper_ coasted past the window.

_"Colonial Heavy 798_, _this is Viper 105," _a voice called out over the wireless._ "My call-sign is Apollo and I'll be your escort back to Caprica_."

Taking position beside the flying transport, the Viper kept position as its guardian and protector.

"_Copy that Viper 105, Captain Russo here_," the man confirmed from the flying luxury liner. "_Glad to have you with us, Apollo. We'll do our best to make it an uneventful trip_."

"_Viper 105, Raptor 238_," another voice chirped into the wireless. "_This is Boomer, just wanted to say it was an honor to fly with you, Apollo_."

Not to far away, the last squadron of the sinking _Galactica_ was making their departure, with Boomer's _Raptor_ at the forefront of the group leading the assembled dozen or so _Vipers_.

"_Copy that, Boomer_," Lee confirmed. "_The feeling is mutual. You heading back to Caprica_?"

"_Yes, sir_," she answered, though in her voice she didn't seem too happy by it. "_Back to Caprica and reassignment_,"

"_Hope our paths meet up again someday, Boomer_," Apollo grinned in his cockpit.

"_Copy that sir," _the young rookie smiled right back from several meters away, as the squadron of _Vipers_ began to pull away for their own trip home._ "Safe journey..._"

* * *

An hour later after a running battle through the halls the Guard soldiers had the upper hand.

Colonel Sroka Hillis raced down the expansive corridor, trying to avoid the three deck deep crater a demolition team had used to clear a barricade set up by the android crew.

"What's the situation?" Hillis yelled as he came upon the team that had specifically requested his authority.

"We're pinned down!" Corporal Jennifer Meer said as the sparks of light reflected in her visor from impacting bullets. "We think this is the command room for the ship behind that blast door. Scans show a large room on the other side where most of the ships control systems seem to intersect. They have eleven of their droids protecting the main door and so far nothing made a dent in their forces but they've seen six of my men to the medics. Even in close quarter their still dangerous."

"Alli!" he yelled over the clattering of the gunfire into his wrist comm, "can you give me an overview of the drones."

The AI's voice sounded into the pod on his ear, a loud ethereal sound overpowering the sound of flying bullets. "_Their processing power is very limited, barely registering above the ability of most mundane tasks, such as point a weapon and shoot. However their intelligence matrixes are organically based upon compounding units, two of them together can contribute processing power to a pool and perform a move complex action_."

"Can we disrupt those matrixes?" the Corporal roared, listening in on Alli's assessment.

"_Re-sequence your weapons to an electro-magnetic discharge of.459 and aim for their thorax_," the computer supplied.

"Seluj! Dnomhcir!" Corporal Meer yelled across the hall to the two soldiers pinned to the wall on the other side of the door, "you heard the computer!"

Chief Warrant Officer Grade Two Enrev Seluj and Grade Three Dnomhcir, did as their commanding officer said and quickly re-tuned their rifles to the specified frequency.

Then working in tandem each of them opened fire with extreme prejudice, one giving his weapon a few seconds to recharge from the sudden bolt of energy and another cover him with fire.

The Centurions fell in seconds of the combined marksmanship of the two soldiers and a minute later Corporal Meer was kicking the closest drone to make sure it was definitely dead while their Colonel began to scan the blast door the robots had been so keen on protecting.

"Scans show it to be a mix composite of trinium and barium," Hillis said as he moved a hand scanner over the door. "If these idiot drones properly refined it this thing would be nearly a hundred times the strength of normal steel. Instead it has so many imperfection that a well placed cyclonite explosive could bring the whole thing down."

"Good thing I happen to have a demolition specialist with one," Jennifer noted, "Private Yarm!"

"Sir!" Private First Class Oicde Yarm yelled as the towering insectiod Lepidopterran rushed forward on her quadrapedal legs and swung her backpackage over two transparent wings and began to fit a small black explosive to the door.

They all tried not to grimace as the massive female dragonfly like creature actually affixed the bombs with a splatter of adhesive goo from her pollen glands, the stinking liquid quickly hardened into place.

"Grebsnig, take point! Seluj and Dnomhcir move in when it's clear," Meer ordered her two subordinates before turning to Sroka, "Colonel, care to storm the deck with us?"

"Would love to," Colonel Hillis nodded before cocking his rifle into the crook of his arm.

"Fire in the hole!" Oicde yelled a second later.

The explosion was deafening but like any Guard soldier, their helmets came with sound dampening fields to protect them from hearing loss in the heat of battle. As the smoke cleared they raced inside and opened fire with full prejudice…

* * *

The sun rose over Caprica City, bright light showered every corner of the metropolis, bringing an amazing display of rainbows and glares.

A far off temple bell rang, signaling the start of a new day as the denizens of the city crawled from their beds and moved about their day. A jogger pulled on his running shoes as crisp fall air gave a chill to his bare chest. A business man sipped his coffee, balancing a brief case with his mug as somehow his foot managed to close the front door of the house behind him. A gaggle of small children giggle and rushed in a heated game of tag, a white school bus approaching over the far off hill.

And from the great windows of the Presidential Suite, President Richard Adar had a near panoramic view of his capital, even farther as he could make out the distant spaceport tower in Edessa City almost twenty miles north rising like a white needle on the horizon. Built on the expansive park grounds the city surrounded it was an idealist island in a sea of urban development.

But Richard never did pay much attention to the ascetic values of the capital building's landscaping or the architecture of _Caprica's_ skyline. He was a workaholic, never was one to leave a job undone or procrastinate on a project.

It was probably why his marriage had been dead for years yet they stayed together for publicity or why his affair with the Secretary of Education was so convenient, it always revolved around his career and nothing more.

Right now both were the furthest thing from his mind as he dealt with yet another crisis of office.

"Can you confirm the station was destroyed?" the President asked of the man standing before him.

"Reports are still coming in now," Fleet Admiral Hobbs said a bit too aloft for Adar's tastes. Many in the military considered him a moron for his tendency to use their forces as a strong arm to get some of his policies to pass. Hobbs was one of these. "But from our ground positions we can confirm a large blast of light was observed before all contact was lost. Wireless messages have also stopped coming from the _Battlestars_ _Thor_, _Valkyrie _and _Yashuman _which were on the orbital picket, nowhere near the station. All evidence points to a massive calamity taking out _Rhapsody_ and every ship in Caprican high orbit."

"Damn," Adar muttered under his breath loud enough for the Admiral to hear him. "The fallout from this is going to be worse than the Sky King Disaster. I am ordering a halt to all civilian traffic in the solar system until we know what happened. Admiral, I want you to put the fleet on high alert and deploy a relief force to _Caprica_ to help keep our orbital traffic going in the meantime."

"Understood," the man nodded.

"I'll contact the Secretary of Press," the President continued. "The PR backlash is going to be a bitc-"

"Sir," a fluster commander burst through the doors of the Presidential Suite's, gasping for breath as he desperately held a report to his breast, "commique from_ Picon Fleet Headquarters_! They reported they were under heavy attack before a jamming field went up. Similar from _Scorpia_ _Shipyards_ and _Moonlight_ _Station_!"

"It must be the Cylons," Hobbs supplied, now some vigor starting to enter into his voice. "They have broken the armistice and restarted the war!"

"We don't know that yet but no matter get our ships into the fight!" Richard countered. "What's the damage report from _Picon_."

"Four _Battlestars_ destroyed and at least five hundred _Vipers_," the commander stammered. "They're calling for reinforcements but it isn't looking good. _Scorpia _is worse, totally besieged. Nothing from _Moonlight_ after their first communications. We expect planet-side attacks within the hour."

"Then we have to assume _Rhapsody_ fell as a prelude to this war," Adar verbalized. "Have the _Battlestars_ _Argo_ and _Seti_ on point until we get some reserve units back. I'll convene the Quorum, while you Admiral will reactivate all off-duty officers and issue the call for the Planetary Guard to activate."

"Sir, yes sir!" Hobbs nodded but as he turned towards the door, ushering the young commander out with him, a tremor rocked the ground below their feet.

Whatever it was the overhead lights dimmed but that was easily compensated by a bright glare from the morning sun.

It took a second to realize however that this increase in sunlight wasn't coming from the east where the sun was rising, it was coming from the north where a flash so bright Richard could see it with his eye closed, seemed to dominating the horizon.

It was only apparent when it dimmed that Adar understood what he had just seen.

"Oh my Gods..." were the only words he could utter as a dirty black mushroom cloud rose in the distance of what was once Edessa City.

Neither him, Admiral Hobbs or the young commander would understand the real extent of the damage. As they tried to comprehend causality figures, property damages and the proper response to such an atrocity a small shooting star raced overhead.

A far off temple bell continued to ring.

A jogger tripped and stumble as he ran, preoccupied by the sudden tremor.

A business man curse his misfortune at his spilt coffee while he was staring at the bright light far away.

A gaggle of children giggled and jumped with glee, the prospect of class being canceled all cropping up in their mind.

No one felt the fifty megaton nuke detonate a kilometer over the city, or the wave of energy that flew outward.

Seven million people only noticed a sudden rise in temperature...

And then Caprica City was annihilated from existence.

* * *

A Five, two Eights and the same model Three from the initial boarding were all gathered around the meeting table of the Command and Control room when everything seemed to go white and a scream resounded through their ears. Five was killed instantly as a piece of debris struck him in the head and sent his body sprawling.

The Eights tried to put up a fight, raising their handguns to open fire on the soldiers pouring through their door. The alien's armor easily shrugged off the hits and returned fire.

Wearing just everyday civilian clothes for the upcoming missions to infiltrate the Colonies, the two women fell after taking multiple hits each, plasma burns scaring their bodies.

Three on the other hand had done the only thing she could do, hide under a nearby console and pray to God no one would notice her. Her prayers weren't answered however and a ruff hand pulled her from the hiding place and tossed her to the ground.

"Well I'll be damned," Three heard a voice over her, "she's human."

However the Three couldn't understand any of what she heard, living in a part of the cosmos that had never heard the universal language of Universal Common that all citizens of the Hegemony spoke. She looked up into the blank black helmet of the towering man over her, feeling only utter terror at the demon like creatures that had ravaged the proud _Basestar_.

That only perked Corporal Meer's ears. "I think as a human I get to make that call," she announced as she approach the prisoner Chief Warrant Officer Dnomhcir had taken.

"How do we know she's not an android?" Oicide asked as she stared at their captive.

"Because I've dated androids," Meer smirked. "Not as lively. Yarm, scan her."

Waving a hand scanner over the Three the Lepidopterran began to summarize the results to her comrades. "Anatomical scan of her body appears to be baseline humanize normal but I am reading synthetic molecules and neural tumors located in several portions of her physique." Snapping the scanner close and turned towards Jennifer, "She is human in only the most basic sense, closer to you then a Chimpanzee is."

"Careful," Hillis quipped, "Chimpanzee government just classed the phrase '_monkey's uncle'_ as a racial slur."

Stooping down Meer stared into the terrified eyes of the woman in front of her. She was probably late thirties, youthful for her age yet the terror in those ice blue eyes was evident.

Slowly reaching up and clicking the release on the back of her helmet, removed her head covering. Short, cropped brown hair fell over her face as she exposed her midnight dark skin to the cool air of the _Basestar_.

Stowing the helmet under her arm she kneeled over the Three and asked one simple question. "So do you want to tell me who or what you are?"

Rage began to build inside the Three. She had seen her sister models fall before her, fellow Cylons fight and died against these monsters. They had infected their _Resurrection Ship_ with a deadly computer virus and murdered thousand of Cylons by then destroying it.

"We will burn your worlds," she spat, "the Twelve Colonies will die and God will reward us from wiping your evolutionary dead end out of the galaxy."

"What she' saying?" Grebsnig questioned at the strange language their prisoner spoke.

"Alli, can you analyze?" Hillis asked again to his wrist comm.

"_Latin_," Alli explained through the team's collective ear pods, "_an ancient Indo-European language that was spoken in the Roman Republic and the Roman Empire, derived from ancient Atlantean, the language of the dead Atlantis civilization. It was also the de facto international language of science in the Solorian Federation. Latin has not been spoken as an official language on Earth for over three thousand four hundred cycles before the Hegemony was founded_."

"Alli, upload that language file to my internal translator so I can convey a message to our prisoner," Meer ordered before turning to the Three and conveying her message in prefect fluent Latin. "Lady, I have no idea what the Twelve Colonies are but I can tell you one thing. I'm from a moon called _Carthage_ in the Delta Cassiopeia solar system." Then leaning in close so only the woman could hear. "You try to burn my world and God's wraith will be the worse you can image before I get to you."

"Get her out of here!" Colonel Hillis ordered the moment Jennifer was finished and pulling her helmet back on. "Have the egg heads on the _Mind_ and get over here. I want them to tear this entire place apart from steam to stern."

* * *

They walked side by side, through the largely empty corridors that only days before were teeming with crewmen and officers going about their days and doing their work. Now it was just the two of them, just like old times.

"Staff duty?" Kara grumbled to herself as she read over her next assignment for the third time with a look of disgust. "Hell with that, Old Man. I want to keep flying."

"You've done a lot of flying," Commander Adama explained as they strolled down the hall. "You need a little staff duty on your resume. Besides..."

He trailed off, getting a distant look in his eyes for a second that wasn't lost on Kara who gave him a curious look. Something was on his mind, she knew it.

"Kara... about Zak..." he had to ask and it was now or never. "Yes or no… was he cut out to be a pilot or not?"

She visibly stiffened at the mention of the man's name.

"He was good," she shrugged. "Okay? I taught basic flight. And I passed him. So he must've had something on the ball. Otherwise I wouldn't have passed him. Right?"

The answer hung in the air for a bit, no further discussion followed but it couldn't go any further as Colonel Tigh opened the nearest hatch, sticking his head out to find his commanding officer.

"There you are," he finally saw them and beckoned them inside. "We're ready when you are."

Inside the weapons control room, just off from the far side of the CIC, the small room normally manned by only a few crewmen, was crowded. These were the last of the crew left, those few familiars that had no interest of leaving this old girl until her lights officially went out and she was no longer a warship.

Kara joined him at the central console where a box had been setup, the large embroidered words "_Power Coils/Weapons/Master_" circled around the edge of one large red button hidden under glass.

"My father once told me," he grumbled, not speaking in a loud and booming voice because this ceremony deserved nothing of the sort, "that warships have lives just like human beings. They're born when their guns are first charged, they die when their guns are finally silenced… We're gathered here to silence the guns of Galactica and so end her life in the Colonial Fleet."

Nodding towards the Colonel, the man didn't miss a beat before picking up the nearest phone and hitting the general broadcast for the entire ship.

"_This is the Executive Officer,"_ his voice boomed through the bowels of the ship. "_All hands stand to attention. Galactica, leaving the Fleet_."

The crew's backs went rigid, everyone locked themselves at attention and waited for the final moments of this old ship to come to an end.

Adama reached forward and slide open the protective covering over the bright red button that lay before him. He held himself ready for just a second, his hand covering over the button for just a second before finally it pressed down… once and forever.

Below the belly of the mighty _Battlestar_, a long, circular like portal rolled open like a blooming flower's petals and three massive, cylinder shaped weapons coils jettisoned out into space.

With the inertia of detaching from their mothership, they coasted away under their own power and off into the starry night.

"Coils are detached," Tigh observed from one of the many readout monitors that coated the walls of the weapon's control room. "They are now beyond safe distance boundary."

The room was quiet as Adama clicked a switch on the side of the big red button and a series of three lights flashed green. With no more hesitation he hit the final button.

Several hundred meters away the coil's self-destruct activated and each of the three constructs imploded in on themselves, making sure that no one could ever use them again.

As the dust began to disperse, the _Galactica_ was officially no longer a true _Battlestar_… a toothless cat now being taken out to field.

* * *

The room was boring, just a raised platform where the white tube of the Hybrid lay. Immersed in pale liquid, the creature had continued to function even as her ship was taken away from her, even as her crew was imprisoned and her stores pillaged.

"Assume the relaxation length of photons in the sample atmosphere is constant," she mumbled again and again, oblivious to all the activity around her... or the eyes staring down at her.

"Their system is remarkably advance," Chief Kruxal leaned over the Hybrid's berth, the Sangheli lowering his snout down to stare at the apparently humanish woman before him, "which is surprising given their much lower level of weapons technology and power production systems.

"_Mechanical species do tend to excel at computer technology_," Alli nodded from the mobile projector they had setup beside the apparent center of this ship's systems. "_On the other hand, rarely do we see incorporation of organic technology at this level of development. At this state of progress I'd estimate the Cylon's shouldn't have had begun to develop a successful bio-mechanical computation device for at least another thousand-cycles_."

"You thinking outside help?" Alhex commented from where he has specially chosen to lean on and look as bored as possible.

"Most likely," Kruxal agreed as he ran the tips of one of two fingered, two thumbs through the fluids of the Hybrid's dock. "No offense, I'm sure the Cylons could have worked very hard but with the gross gap between their scientific progress it's a very small chance. If they had already begun to implement polaric ion technology into their power production systems then I'd give them the benefit of the doubt but without it... such computer technology progress should be totally impossible."

"Then we may have to worry about encountering a higher power who are simply using the Cylon's as puppets," Alhex didn't look pleased with such a possibility. "How goes the search of their data core?"

"_Difficult_," Alli regarded the core with a hint of disturbed curiosity. "_The system is resisting me and after the debacle with my virus, I am reluctant to release another viral program into their systems_."

"How about we sever the sentient processing core from the rest of the ship?"

"We believe if we do the entire computer network would purge," "She is the operator core and all its processor memory, everything else is merely is wiring and extensions for her to work inside of.

"Like the S'jet of a Hiigaran mothership," Alhex shrugged off the wall and joined the pair. "To operate their massive vessels their captains go through an intense cyberization process, but they still maintain their personalities, their sentience. She's been gutted and her brain rewired as a computer, not as the _operator_ of the computer."

_At least the S'jets we're alive_, Moneti pondered to himself, _this woman however had a wire shoved so far into her brain any sense of her humanity burned_ away.

"_Either way I can't hack it_," Alli shrugged inside the data-stream, "_the coding is far too complicated_."

"Then crash it," Alhex stated with cold detachment. "If we can't get inside the house, let's burn it down."

"But that would still overload the system and create the crash we were trying to avoid," Kruxal protested such an action.

"Not if we merely trap her in a recursive feedback loop," the Lieutenant grinned a dark glare as he hunched down next unflinching Hybrid. "It would freeze everything she thinking where it is and make it a lot easier since we could shift through it at our leisure."

"_I can do that_," leaning over the tub, Alli regarded the woman for just an instance. "_Don't worry, this is going to hurt like hell_..."

* * *

"Foul call!" someone yelled across the Pyramid field, sneakers crushing into the fresh cut grass as they ran down the length on the sidelines.

"You need to pass it!" a woman yelled beside him, cupping her hands over her mouth as she tried to egg them on.

"My ball," a player yelled as he vaulted down the field. "It's my ball."

"Watch out Kai!" Someone screamed at the player with the ball. "Watch out for Sam!"

"Oh!" Kai was so set on getting to her goal with the fist-sized ball in hand that she didn't notice Sam until he caught her in the stomach and tossed her over his shoulder. "Ah!"

Snatching the ball she had dropped, he wound up the strike and threw with all his might, waiting for that sweat slam and ding as the ball sailed into the hole and everyone erupted in cheers.

"Okay, Anders," Kai laughed as she hauled herself up. "Give a girl some help for a second round?"

"Anybody wanna save the lady?" shouted to the surrounding team members, some of who clapped and laughed.

"I'll save you, baby," Wheeler threw himself into the fray in the defense of his fellow teammate.

The game started anew, sweat and tension worked itself out as Sam grabbed Kai again, but Wheeler hit him in the side. He dropped the woman and she used his distraction to snatch up the ball and slam it into the goal.

"Nice," Jean Barolay clapped from the sidelines, her blonde pony tail bouncing in the cool mountain air. "That is beautiful."

"Yeah," Coach Dawson grinned at his player's success. "What you gonna do now, Sam?"

"Shoot till I can't, Coach," he grinned right back at the man.

That was the reason they were here ultimately, to train, to be better, to beat the competition into the ground as hard as possible.

High-altitude training was suppose to improve that, up in the forest covered mountains outside of Delphi where there were few distractions but the right conditions to force them to perform at their peak.

"Start it up," Sam clapped, tossing the ball across the field to Kai who waited only a second before tossing it over to Wheeler.

Anders had anticipated the shot and rushed his team mate, hitting the kid in the chest and throwing all his weight to knock Wheeler to the ground.

But in their haste to top the other, the ball hit the grass and began to roll over the turf. Close enough for Coach Dawson to snag the orb, reel it back and slam it across the field. It sailed right over their heads and squarely into the goal.

The clang, the boom, the cheer and the stunned players looking back at their coach who had just made a full court shot with no effort only made the goal that more astounding.

"Oh!" Sam laughed hysterically, falling back onto the grass as he clutched his sides in laughter. "You gotta be kidding me!"

The mood was light, the players clapped each other on the backs and someone passed the Coach a celebratory mug.

"You win, Coach," Sam laughed on the ground, pounding his fists against the grass blades. "I'm going down!"

It was the emotional high that ran through him, that made him grin no matter how hard he tried to stifle with all his might.

And then it was gone… replaced by a sudden wave of utter terror that seemed to come out of his psyche like a screaming monster.

"This has happened before," he whispered, though he had no idea where it had come from just like the wave of terror.

A rumble ran through the ground, a far off bang that caused his ear drums to rattle.

"Look," someone yelled, he thought it was Sue-Shaun but in the sudden canopy of yells that rose up her voice was lost.

Looking up he noticed the direction in which Sue-Shaun was pointing, that everyone was looking in, in utter horror and shock… at the two huge mushroom clouds rising in the distance…

* * *

The room was cold, the walls were cold, even the lack of decoration just seemed to add to the inhospitable nature of the room. Save for a table and two opposing chairs it lacked any windows, bars... it was like being locked inside the perfect box and forgotten for all eternity.

She couldn't remember if it had been hours or days since she had been tossed into this cell, she certainly did remember waking just as they deposited her onto the floor but since there was no window or sunlight, she couldn't gauge the passage of time to any degree.

A portal opened in the wall, allowing only a blinding light to pour in.

For just a second she could believe she had finally crossed over... maybe this is what came after the final death... when there was no resurrection from when you die.

But instead someone entered through the portal, a shadow that quickly took the shape of a human being... a living breathing person.

The man was tall, so tall that he had to duck his head just a few inches to make it under the frame of the door. He wore a uniform she was unfamiliar wife, obviously no kind of Colonial military officer she had encountered.

_Maybe one of the civilian companies_, she questioned to herself but the technology these people had used far outweighed anything she knew the Colonials could wield.

"I am Major Tarrik, please sit," he gestured to the open chair across from him, a pleasant smile at her. But when she made no motion to sit the smile still remained just as happy and cheerful. "Is your specie's legs not capable of hinge leg motion? If not then our medical scans of you were wrong. Though some of what our scans have piqued our medical officer's interest. Were you aware that 98% of your DNA is a direct match to a race we have encountered before called Humans."

"How dare you compare me to those mongrels!" rage sparked in her body before she even knew she was speaking, the moment she was aware she clammed up.

"Ah, I see then you have heard of humanity before," the man actually seemed delighted in her slip of the tongue, though Three had yet to gauge if it was his general mood or this ad-hoc interrogation he was running.

She didn't want to speak, to say anything else that could hurt their ultimate plan against the Colonials, but again she found her mouth moving and the same rage filling her again.

"Our people are God's chosen," she spat with venom and bile in her voice. "We will grind you under our feet, we will bring death down on you, he has chosen us to succeed you as we remove every last one of your kind from this universe."

"Privilege doesn't guarantee destiny," Tarrik shrugged as if she was boasting to an un-interested audience. "I believe you have a conundrum here, Miss... I don't believe we ever established your name?"

Even if her mouth continued to work on its own, that was one bit of information she was not going to give up.

"Oh well," the Major flashed a mouth of pearly white teeth. "Just so you know I am not Human. I am Ocampa."

He reached up and pulled back some of the hair that was tied into a pony-tail at the back of his head, for a moment Three thought he was just running his fingers through the locks in some kind of nervous frustration. But instead he lifted up a patch of sandy-blonde hair to reveal a series of sharp, triangle folds atop his ears, as if some mythical-elf she had read about in the Colonial's laughable fairy tales.

This man looked Colonial, but very obviously he was as human as she was.

"O'campoa?" she rolled it over her tongue once or twice, just for good measure.

"I won't be insulted since Humans and Ocampa do look very similar," the man was completely beaming at her, as if he was exhilarated to give up such caches of information to her, "but my species evolved on a planet on the opposite side of the galaxy from humanity. We are more descended from marsupial ancestors then the Human's primate forebears... your forebears."

Those words again cause the fiery rage in her bell to come swelling back.

"I am not Human," she hissed through clenched teeth. "I am Cylon!"

"Well maybe enough of your body chemistry is different to give yourself a new name," Tarrik conceded. "On the other-hand your entire genetic foundation is still engrained into a Human genome. One I might add that has some extensive bio-engineering going into it."

"God made us in his image from our mechanical forefathers," she announced proudly and with as much conservative reservation she could muster.

"So you are a race of machines that saw organic nature as the next logical step in your evolution. Fascinating!" the man almost bounced in his chair. "And were your creators aware that their former servants were planning their total genocide in the name of your God?"

If her jaw was capable of hitting the ground at that moment it would have.

"How... you... what?" she fell over her words, trying to get a usable train of thought going.

Three however was thoroughly disturbed as the pleasant smile on Tarrik's face became a little too pleasant and knowing for her nerves.

"You see one thing that separates Ocampa from Human..." he offered up... just as he tapped a finger to his forehead "is that the Ocampa are naturally telepathic. It merely took some prodding to get your mind to work in the direction I needed... just poke the amygdale part of the brain hard enough and the anger makes you say the most delightful things."

She stared at him open mouth, for a second not believing what he was saying... until she remembered the uncontrollable anger that was rising in her whenever he asked a question... her inability to keep her mouth shut.

But Tarrik wasn't finished just yet.

"Once you made that bit about '_God made us in his image,_' I latched on," he grinned ear to ear, gesturing a little demonstration with his fingers of the windy loop he had followed into her brain. "Followed that memory right back to its source... the Colonials they're called... I take it that's why you vehemently hate humans so thoroughly."

The indignation of her inner mental workings being invaded so was first in her mind... but again she felt the anger rising in the pit of her stomach.

_No_, she desperately thought, _he's doing it again_!

"They enslaved us," she wheezed, even as she tried to stop herself with all her power she still spoke, "treated us like we were property. We are divine, we are better."

"No," Tarrik, for the first time since they spoke, was no longer smiling. "You are seeking retribution for the harm they did for you, cloaking it in religious edict and hoping that by sugar coating it as someone else's divine will that you won't have to worry about instigating mass murder."

"The Humans days are numbered..." this time it was she who was smiling."We will destroy all twelve of the Colonies."

"But there are not twelve Colonies," the look of her eyes bugging out of her head returned the smile to Tarrik's lips. "You did it again, a train of thought that has more behind it then you think, again I know more then you wanted. There is a thirteenth Colony... a human world... called _Earth_."

"We will seek them out too," she tried to fight, Three could feel the inner workings of her mind screaming against the intrusion but still her mouth moved on its own accord. "Those that separated from their brothers and sisters so long ago and they will meet the same fate."

"Yet they never had a hand in your creation?" Tarrik asked.

"Humans are too dangerous to be allowed to run wild," this time it was her who was really speaking, if this man was going to make her talk then she was going to use her own words. "It is our duty to God to remove their cancer from existence."

"Then good luck dealing with _Earth_," the Ocampa chuckled from the bottom of his belly. "You won't be the first to attack her but you certainly will be the most primitive and foolish to do so."

She sprung to attention, all her internal thoughts sparking and racing at what the interrogator had just divulged for her to hear.

"You know where the Thirteen live?" she gasped, leaning across the table until her noise was merely a foot from her captor. "Tell me! I will reward you with anything... _anything_ you could desire."

"Miss," Tarrik didn't seemed the least bit interested in her very and overt subterfuge. "I have been to the _Sol_-system, where the planet _Earth_ lies. There are more people and life on that single world then all the Colonies... times three. As of last cycle's census, _Earth_ has a population of 97.3... _billion_. The largest of its three moons, Luna, has over twenty... billion residents... the whole of their solar system has over 200-billion denizen... the Human race itself was totaled at 4.9 quintillion as of last count. That's 4.9 x1033 if you want to get mathematical. They make up one of the most numerous and far-spread peoples in the entire Hegemony... which was founded on their homeworld."

"You lie..." she breathed under her breath as she stared down at this man, unbelieving in the factitious words he was spewing. "There have never been that many humans in existence and never will."

"If you think the Hegemony is going to allow you to destroy one of its founding worlds you are sadly mistaken," the Major was actually stifling laughter, as if it was merely a joke. "Besides, _Earth_ is located in a totally different galaxy and based on the lack of Cylon technology in comparison to ours... it will take you centuries to find it and still we'll be outpacing you by thousands of cycles in superiority."

"We will-"

"You will be held accountable for your crimes against the Hegemony," he cut her off before she couldn't continue. "You have been deemed sentient and as such will have all the rights afford to you of an intelligent being. You have the right to an attorney, if you do not have proper console a legal droid will be provided to you. You have the right to withhold information but do so under the knowledge that conclusions of your own guilty nature can be drawn. You are guilty until proven innocent and will be confined to this cell until such time as your trial is to be preformed. Is all what I have said been understood?"

"You actually expect your laws to apply to me," now it was her turn to laugh. "I am an instrument of God's will to bring an end to centuries of Human existence."

"I have learned many things from my years interacting with Humans," Tarrik leered at her with a menacing glare. "Including one particularly useful phrase. '_Go to Hell you bitch_!'"

* * *

He was trying to very hard to wrap his mind around what he had just been told but still his thoughts were drifting off into the realm of incredulous impossibility.

"So... now you're telling me..." he tried to work his mind around it by trying to say it verbally to try and make it real, "you're a machine."

"I'm a person," she said from the chair across the room, crossing her legs and noting that he couldn't help but stare at her supple thighs. "A woman."

"A machine woman," he again tried to work it out-loud. "A synthetic woman. A robot. That's you? You're the new breed of Cylon? The last time anyone saw the Cylons they looked like walking toasters, let alone you-"

"The old breed is still around," she noted defensively, as if he had just called her brother an ass. "They have their uses, even in our society."

"No," he shook his head, it was just too outrageous. "I don't believe any of this. Prove it. Prove to me you're a Cylon. Right now."

"I don't have to," she countered with those knowing eyes. "You know I'm telling the truth."

"Stating something as fact does not make it so," Gaius shot right back at her. "Because the truth is, I don't believe anything you're saying-"

"I know you, Gaius," her voice was low and quivering and though he didn't want too he found himself leaning inward to hear what she had to say with keen interest. "I know how you think and when you think it. You believe me because deep down you've always known there was something different about me, something that didn't quite add up in the usual way. And you believe me because it flatters your ego to believe me… to believe that you alone among all the people of _Caprica_ were chosen for my mission."

"Your mission?" he squeaked.

"You knew I wanted access to the Defense mainframe," she fixed her eyes on him for just an instance and looked away, a pained expression in her eyes. "My mission was to compromise Colonial Defense systems in preparation for an attack on the Colonies."

"Oh my Gods..." his breath was escaping him, panic was overcoming him.

"You never believed I really worked for some mysterious "company"," a grin played on the corners of her mouth, finding it laughable that a self-certified genius was claiming ignorance right now. "But you didn't really care either. All that mattered was that you and you alone could give me that kind of access. You were special. You were powerful."

"How many people know about this?" he shouted in terror. "That you chose me?"

"And even now," she hid a dark smirk under her bangs, "as the fate of your entire world hangs in the balance, all you can think about is how this affects you. It won't matter. In a few hours there won't be anyone alive left to care."

"Wait… wait…. Wait," he stammered, trying to understand the situation. "Something doesn't make sense… you're still here. If this was really the end of the world, you wouldn't just be sitting here waiting to die with the rest of us."

She almost looked sad, for a second he wondered if that was sympathy he saw in her expression.

"Gaius," she walked towards him, slowly she ran a hand over his trembling cheek and looked into his worried, tear rimmed eyes. "I can't die. When this body's destroyed, my memory and consciousness will be instantly transmitted to a new one. I'll just wake up somewhere else in an identical body."

"You mean there's more out there like you?" he whispered.

"There are twelve models…" she stated logically, "I'm number Six."

Just as her hand left his cheek, the ground trembled and the windows rattled as a second and third sun rose in over the far off mountains on the other side of the lake.

"It's begun…"

* * *

Her car rolled around another semi, the scenery flying by as the vehicle rolled along the mountain highway. It was a beautiful morning, the sun rising high over Delphi below and the many skyscrapers becoming sparkling pillars in the rising light.

"…_Mayor Noro continues to lead seven points in the recent polls according to the Caprica City Times_," the radio sang as she itched the side of her head, trying to stifle a yawn and wondering why she was up this early. "_But candidate Alan is starting to gain in standing given his hardliner policies appealing to more conservative members of the public. Also in recent news, military officials report that they have lost contact with Armistice Station temporarily as a malfunctioning weather satellite seems to be the cause of the communications blackout_-"

Her phone chirped and reaching over onto the passenger seat where it lay she glanced at the screen and smiled at the name that flashed on its screen. Flipping the radio off she flipped the device open and pressed it to her ear.

"_So miss your flight yet_?" she grinned wildly as Jensen's voice grumbled in her ear.

"No," she laughed, fumbling the device into the crook of her neck as she tried to put both hands back onto the wheel.

"_But aren't you running late_?" the man noted, a hint of humor in his words.

"No, don't sweat it," no concern filled her voice as she weaved in and out of traffic, taking the next oncoming exit and seeing the concrete highway dissolve into asphalt land streets. "I'll make the flight."

But he wasn't entirely convinced. "_You gonna have enough time_?"

"Yes," she pressed, straining the fact to him one last time. "They run Delphi to Caprica City every hour now. Besides I wouldn't have been late at all if you had let me get out of bed when I wanted to."

"_Sorry_, _Tory,_" he apologized, though she knew he really wasn't. "_Saw you in the morning light and just had to have you all to myself_."

The city began to rise up around her, the streets were largely empty at this hour as the mid-morning commuters had just begun to swell onto the streets and the sidewalks and roadside stores were just starting to open their doors.

"Yeah, it's all fun and games until someone in the mayor's office catches us in bed together," Tory shot right back, but her voice was light and without concern. "Oh, and remember to get Jeremy to check the numbers on mayoral staff downtime. If we find a project whose cost is-"

Her voice caught in her throat… something inside her suddenly felt very wrong, like she was being watched by an unseen entity and fear was starting to rise inside of her.

"This has all happened before," she mumbled into the phone without even thinking.

"_What_?" Jensen asked. "_Tory, what's going-_"

Something loud boomed, for a second she was scared she had hit something and her foot slammed down on the break with only instinct driving her.

But the wall of debris racing towards her was a shock, cars rising up in the air and the shattered remains of the surrounding skyscrapers falling like twigs before her. All she had time for was a gasp and then the shockwave hit her car.

The force of the wind hitting knocked the vehicle end over end, the windows shattering and the screaming wind howling like a vicious animal in her ears.

Something snapped, the pain shooting up her arm was the first hint that her wrist was broken but it disappeared as her hair whipped in her face, blinding her.

The car hit the ground, the impact reverberating through her body as it skidded over the ground and finally came to a stop… upside down.

She coughed, her mouth dry and tasting like dust, as she stared at the cracked and broken ground she was hanging over.

_Thank Gods, I was wearing my seatbelt today_, she thought to herself… before Tory lost consciousness…

* * *

"_Vonaka_," even if he was enjoying a few moments relaxing on his coach, that didn't seem enough to get Alli to give him a moment of private as she projected herself into his quarters. "_Incoming message from Magellenic Stellar Command, Gold Channel priority_."

"That's pretty high up," he mumbled to himself, hauling himself up and off the piece of furniture to tower of the AI. "Who is the sender?"

"_Space Guard Grand Admiral Mizuki Amaya_," the name was spoken quick and with strong reservation by the hologram.

"Now we know we're in trouble," Vonaka mumbled privately. If the military commander for this entire region of space was contacting him over a combat report, then it obvious there was some interest from the higher ups. "Put her on, Alli."

The hologram disappeared and an instance later a transparent screen flashed in before the man. A scowling, older woman staring back at him defiantly. Her long black hair was pulled back into a tight bun and several streaks of gray sprinkled themselves through the mane.

"_Sector Admiral Volaska_," his superior's thick Japanese accent almost hid the immense displeasure that swelled in her words, "_from what I read in the data-feeds you've managed to pull a pretty large cluster-fuck out of the woodwork. Rescuing a damaged and on top of that rogue science ship, engaging an unknown and openly hostile alien fleet and then capturing one and destroying three other capital ships… not bad for the first military engagement ever since the Hegemony arrived in this tiny little stellar cluster. Care to explain how you managed to start a small scale war in what was thought to be a region devoid of intelligent life_?"

"Grand Admiral," Vonaka was quick to defend his actions, "we were merely following the clues. It was our understanding that the _Running Savior_ was off course and had taken serious damage. Our mission is to protect this region of space from all threats, including those that may bring danger onto our space in the foreseeable future. If whatever had attacked that civilian ship had followed them, the _Victory_ and her fleet would have been hard pressed to protect the several thousand colonists in our patrol zone."

"_While I don't enjoy this particular situation that you've managed to drag us into_," Mizuki grimaced at the words, "_I have to agree. The Cylons, while technological inferior, are a threat to our continued colonization efforts inside the Magellenic Cloud. Have you managed to make any headway in the interrogation of the prisoners_?"

"Little," Vonaka shrugged, though in truth they had gleamed more by pulling the Cylon capital ship apart then the prisoners they took off of it. "From what we have already unearthed from them is that the Cylons are a deeply religious people who believe in a divine destiny… this devotion however is verging on belligerence. They find any challenge to the idea almost incomprehensible… and reactions of violence are common as a defense mechanism. I believe that only through forcible displays of power will we be able to cement any ideas that they are no longer the superior force in this area of space."

"_Not something I wanted to hear_," his superior groused, "_but one thing I do know… nothing makes a better mediator then a fully armed tactical battlegroup. In the meantime we are deploying the HSS Chariot of the Sun under Captain Miriam Kay and the HSS River of Stars under Captain Asshur Frerrn to LMX-8392\847AB/76-Q-1b to investigate what could have prompted Captain Sutherland's gross incompetence and in the interim ordering the 95SpineαǼ to the Colonial solar system to intervene on the Twelve Colonies behalf_."

"And if the Cylon's protest such interruptions of their plans?" Volaska had to ask, even if under his fur she couldn't see the smirk pinching at his lips.

"_Tough_," Mizuki almost spit in her anger. "_They want to commit genocide amongst themselves, that's fine by us. Universe is a better off. But when they decide to do it to someone who is blissfully unaware until the nukes hit, then that's where the Hegemony is going to put its foot down_. _Stupidity is one thing, forcing it onto someone else is reprehensible." _

"There are going to be some people back home who will protest this '_intervention'_ in the affairs of another species," he noted with some gall in his voice.

"_And are you one of those people, Sector Admiral_?" she drew out those last words, putting emphasis on the fact that she was still five ranks below her.

"Off the record?" a nod from his senior was all he needed to respond. "This is my command and with that power I will do whatever necessary to ensure the safety and smooth function of my patrol zone. If that means turning this entire stellar cluster upside down and shaking its pockets to see what falls out, then that's what I'll do. I'm not stubble, I'm not pretty and I'll piss off a lot of people along the way. But I'll get the job done."

"_A man by my own heart," _the Stellar Admiral grinned._ "Brief your officers, I want you fleet on the frontline as fast as humanly possible_…"

* * *

Her hips rocked to and fro, eliciting many a man's... and a few women's stealing a glance. A red dress clung to the prefect body, revealing just enough skin to entice many an individual's passionate yearning for her companionship. She reached a delicate set of manicure nails up, wiping back a strand of starchy white blond hair from her eyes, causing at least one businessman to have to jugging his briefcase to cleverly hid his lap.

"_Flight Picon Heavylifter-091 to Aquaris will depart in three minutes_," speakers boomed overhead, echoing among steel rafters of the glass ceiling of the spaceport. "_All passengers are in final bordering procedures_."

She rolled about and deposited herself into a nearby couch, placing her briefcase on her long legs, cleverly placing one red high heel over the other as she laid back and glanced at her watch.

One minutes...

Looking to her left she noticed suited men having their shoes shined by a young boy, barely paying the child any attention as he completed a hard job and barely received a gold coin as his compensation.

Beyond them a mother and daughter walked hand in hand, matching pink bags over their shoulders as the youngsters bounced in excitement beside her parent.

Thirty seconds...

She smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt as a gaggle of flight attendants walked past, all in matching white uniforms and equally excited to be off their flight for the weekends.

Several porters followed in their wake, hauling a crate of luggage on-

"_Repeat individuals inside the terminal are to evacuate the build immediately_," the sudden urgent peel caught everyone who had heard the communication on the loudspeaker. "_Repeat evacuate the building immediately. This is not a drill. Use all available exits_. _All ships are cleared for emergency launch procedures..."_

Ten seconds...

Few needed encouragement as the fire alarm sounded, sending the remaining skeptics running.

The entire time Six sat in the terminal, watching as humanity played out its eventual extinction.

It was a short lived exercise before the inbound nuke detonated overhead, vaporizing the spaceport terminal and the surrounding metropolis.

When she reached the _Resurrection Ship_ she'd have to make her report…

* * *

This trip was dragging on, only the pulsing of the engines and the growing distant blue pinpoint of _Caprica_ slowly growing closer was the only hint their journey was actually progressing in any direction at all.

Beside her Billy paged through her week's schedule, counting off the hours in her life in a pre-planned web of events and meetings.

"You have two lunches next week," he ticked off another event, another moment in her life. "Once with Councilor Chuken to go over his committee's request for-"

"Excuse me," the tightness in her chest had become too much and the sudden lurch in her stomach was the final straw.

Down the aisle, right around the bewildered looking stewardess and right into the bathroom. Billy stared after her, confusion written all over his face as he watched her go and had to wonder about the unpredictable moods and peculiar actions.

The water felt good against her face, even in the cramped lavatory it was good to have a few moments of uninterrupted peace where she could just lay back and forget where she was.

This was too much, she wasn't supposed to be here at all. Emotion were running raw, all she wanted to do to curl up in the corner of this tiny little room and just forget about everything outside the door for just a few hours… or days.

She tried to ignore the blinking light above her head that said "_Please Return to Your Seat_"

Knowing that she couldn't hide in here any longer, it was just going to get harder to leave by the second.

As she left the lavatory, she noticed the usually chatter and noise of the cabin was quiet, however one voice was present over all the others.

"The government…" a man dressed in a pilot's uniform reported over the first class cabin, "has ordered all civilian traffic halted to the time being and... that's all we know for sure. Thank you…"

She looked down to Billy, who face was slackened and full of confusion.

"What's going on?"

* * *

"Lieutenant Moneti," the young man looked up from the work splashed over his desk to notice the transparent image of Alli floating on a nearby holo-screen. "There is a Bronze Channel message incoming on the communication wave from _Magellenic Stellar Command_. Time index is from the Third Month of Ichor, Third Day, 3021 A.F., and fifteen days since initial recording. Would you like to view it?"

However instead of responding the AI took note of the fact that the officer frowned first, then opened his mouth to respond, before shutting it again and frowning it even further.

"Lieutenant?" she pressed a question forward trying to understand the behavior. "Is everything alright?"

"Who is the sender?" Alhex asked after another pause.

"Sender is Lieutenant Commander Trinex Moreri, retired," Alli responded. "Message subject is unlisted."

Again Alhex frowned further but when Alli again began to ask another question he merely cut her off.

"Play it," the Lieutenant ordered.

The AI nodded and quickly dissolved into cyberspace, before the face of a much older gentleman absorbed the screen. After a two-second pause as the '_play'_ icon flashed before the recording began.

"_I hope this message finds you in high health, my cousin_," even if it was a greeting, Trinex did not look pleased, "_but the words I speak I pray will not harm you so. I have just received words from the others on Avor… that Kinex has joined the high spirits. The end of her life string is of great concern among our fellows and talk again has turned to when you will return to us. Concerns are being raised that you are forsaking your allegiance and it is not unfounded that young Barnex is calling for you exile if you do not return by the end of the next stellar year. I do not wish to be forward or hasty in my words Alhex, but there is only so long I can keep the Clan at bay before you have to make a decision. Contact me at your leisure cousin but please do so swiftly. I bid you farewell Alhex Kenlann Moneti… may the spirits shield your life strings from harm_."

'_END OF MESSAGE_' the screen flashed for an instant. '_DO YOU WISH TO SAVE THIS FILE_?'

Two blinking buttons appeared below the message, one flashing to transfer the file to his personal storage, another to remove the message from digital existence.

He hesitated for just a second before making his decision.

'_MESSAGE DELETED_' the screen flashed…

* * *

_Raiders_ rained down on the _Scorpion Shipyards_, nuking and firing on anything that was Colonial made. The _Battlestar Orion_, originally at the station for nothing more than a jammed gyro-motor on its port flight-pod, was hit astern by incoming fire.

Her sub-light engine pods exploded outward like a blooming flower as fire spread to the tylium reserves and took most of the ship with it. Fire control crews rushed to keep the blaze under control but it was all in vain as the ship finally cracked in haft from internal detonations.

Two _Hood-_class _Battlestars_, the sister ships _Nereus_ and _Helead_, tried to complete emergency launches only to be caught with most of their crews still rushing to action stations. Neither survived as another wave of nukes hit the yards.

_Raptors_ were shot down on their pads; lines of _Vipers_ ready to be loaded onto their new ships were turned into a field of fire, habitation modules meant to house the station's crew comfortably burst open like soap bubbles when fired upon.

Onboard the _Battlestar Pegasus_, the only intact ship rushed to keep itself functioning under intense fire.

Cain raced into the CIC with a disheveled Kendra Shaw in her wake, finding Belzen trying to keep order as a Colonel Fisk was unconscious on the floor.

"Seal the hatch and block compartments," Jurgen order into a nearby phone before slamming it back into its cradle.

"What the hell hit us?" his commanding officer roared as she joined him on the other side of the Information Tactical Table.

"Radiological reading looks like nuclear detonation," he summarized as far off explosions could be heard even through the thick bulkheads. "Multiple hits."

"It's the Cylons, it has to be," Cain concluded, "they've broken the Armistice and sparked an all-out attack."

"For all was known. Overall we still have our power... but that's about it," Belzen reported. "Dradis is erratic, weapons are offline, and it seems we lost all computers from the EMP pulses. We have to do everything manually."

The ship rocked violently as another missile hit. Thankfully it wasn't a nuke but the damage was enough for a hull breach alarm to sound. Cain hated to wonder how many people were in that section when it had been exposed to the cold death of space.

"I want all hatches sealed!" she yelled over the klaxons, "docking connections severed."

The _Pegasus_ was an immense vessel, though its functioning crew was much smaller than a _Colombia Battlestar_ it was still over 1850-meters long and 744-meters across. To pull smoothly out of her mooring without their navigation software functioning would require four pilots to control two of the eight sublight engines each.

With only three currently in the CIC the _Battlestar_ pushed hard and recklessly out of her dock, whipping her to starboard as she backed up violently. Her forward thrusters were so strong that the dockyard command module that loomed over her bow blasted into a cloud of wreckage from the sudden kinetic force of the escape ship.

"Lieutenant," Cain yelled at Shaw, "spool up our FTL drive."

The officer did as she was told and pushed the unconscious man that occupied the station to the floor.

"We're preparing for an emergency jump, everyone," the Admiral ordered over the chaos of her CIC.

"Sir, two more nukes headed straight for us," Jurgen yelled as the air in the room became far tenser. "Estimate twenty seconds to impact."

"FTL spooling, sir," Kendra confirmed as the sound of the whining engines began to fill the room. "Without the computer, we can't calculate that jump."

"Don't bother calculating," Cain announced. "Just do it."

"We're gonna do it blind, sir," Kendra was almost dumbfounded by the Admiral's orders. "We might end up inside a star."

FTL calculations were a very precise science. Enter the wrong equation and you could find yourself being crushed and burned alive in the heart of a sun. Kendra shuttered to think of the _Oriana_ accident almost two years ago where a civilian ships FTL computer had malfunctioned and haft the ship jumped into side of a ravine on _Libris_.

"Missile's closing in," Belzen broadcasted as two blips appeared on dradis racing towards _Pegasus_. "Ten seconds!"

"It doesn't matter where we jump. Just frakking do it, Lieutenant!" Cain ordered.

"FTL online," the Lieutenant called out as the system finished spinning up and she started to rattle in whatever coordinates she could think of.

"Five seconds," Jurgen warned as he anxiously eyed Kendra.

" Lieutenant, now!" Cain hollered.

"Jumping!" Shaw pronounced just a second before the folding of space atop them could be felt by everyone onboard _Pegasus_. A moment later the white flash of nothing enveloped them all the mighty _Battlestar_ disappeared from the Cylons and the Colonies altogether.

In the end the Cylons would mark her off as a kill, the Colonials as missing in action.

But neither were correct. The story of Admiral Cain, Kendra Shaw or the _Battlestar Pegasus_ and her crew were far from over.

It was just beginning…

* * *

"_We just felt another blast here_…" the words were crackled, disappearing in and out of static like a bobbing buoy as the operator continued to report. "_If anyone can still hear me, are we on? I'm gonna keep broadcasting as long as I can. It keeps getting closer_... "

"Oh Gods," Jean whispered in anguish, sweat beading on her forehead as she crowded in with the other team members to listen to the tiny wireless radio. "Is this really happening?"

"I got family in the city," frantically Wheeler looked around, trying to think of something, anything. "I gotta go find them!"

"Are you frakking nuts?" Sue-Shaun snatched the back of the man's collar as he tried to stalk away. "The city's gone!"

"No," Sam paced back and forth, trying to understand the magnitude of the situation, repeating the same words over and over again, "no, no, no, no."

"I don't care!" Wheeler shouted at Sue-Shaun, as he tried to break away from her iron tight fist.

"Stop it both of you!" Coach roared as he put both his players in there places, "it's not safe out there and we are going to make sure it stays safe in here!"

"But-"

"Nobody's going anywhere!" Anders cut off Wheeler's protest before it could make any headway. "We don't know enough, okay? We can't lose our frakking heads, all right? We gotta find some place we can get a perspective on this thing. If we go anywhere, we go together, and we go when it's safe, is that understood?"

A round of nods and head bobbing followed from the team members gathered around the wireless radio.

"But where are we going to do?" Sue-Shaun asked him in a small, bewildered voice.

"I don't know…"

* * *

"We combed through most of the records on board the _Basestar_ that could be salvaged," Moneti debriefed the assembled officers three hours later. "Alli's personal hacking of the ship worked perfectly, most of the information was frozen in place so it made retrieval of it all the easier."

"From what we understand this fleet was a supply convoy of some kind," Upsalon provided, "most likely a deployment base."

"Deployment base for what?" Chief Kruxal asked.

"Spies," Alli jumped in to provide. "Apparently the Cylon nation is the rogue mechanical workforce of a nearby civilization. Forty cycles ago they signed a peace treaty with their creators and the Cylons were allowed to go free, but now it seems as if the mechaniods want revenge."

"They have developed bio-synthetic agent and released them into the ranks of their creators, a nation known as the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, with the intent of progressively sabotaging their defenses so when the main attack comes they will be totally defenseless."

"The Colonials don't even know it's going to happen and when it comes their going to be massacred," Alhex soured at the idea of a mass genocide, "all twenty five billion of them."

"By the Great Maker!" Xianextnucatoital exclaimed at the shear death toll.

"Do the Cylons know of their fleet's lose?" Vonaka had to ask.

"No," Alli relieved their worries, "this group was on silent running until the attack. If the Cylons had found out they would have reacted immediately with violence. We'd be facing down dozens of _Basestars_ either in retaliation for the attack on their ships, or just a surgical strike force to destroy the capital ship to keep their technology out of our hands."

"All our knowledge of their tactics we downloaded suggest that a swift and overwhelming reprisal would have been immediate if they knew," Upsalon held.

"Good for us but not for the Colonies," Contallia said. "The attack is still on and twenty-five billion people are going to massacred."

"We could respond," Alli supplied, "but that would require a prolonged commitment that would spread our entire fleet out over an unknown solar system in a hostile region outside of our home sector. The Colonies' home solar system of Cryannus is dangerously outside our sphere of influence."

"If we do desire to engage we could be leaving several hundred colonies without any level of military support," the doctor scrutinized. "A raiding party or invading fleet could roll over this sector with no problem."

"But we have to consider the one major point," Alhex interrupted. "If the Cylons do destroy the Colonies they will soon being to expand with the lack of their closest rival nation. That expansion will spread into this sector and probably several others. Our downloaded files of the size and disposition of their fleet puts them at several hundred _Basestars_, numerous supports ships and a dedicated industrial base. Something we lack out here. If they decide to attack us we would be unable to commit our forces to a sustainable front for several days until reinforcements can arrive."

"What are you implying, Lieutenant?" Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss inquired.

"A hostile nation is going to be putting a large number of their warships in one spot very soon," he laid out. "Not only are we doing the right thing, we're removing a dangerous threat at the same time by thinning the herd. "

For a long minute nothing was said as Moneti's words began to sink in. Finally the Admiral spoke and everyone listened.

"Magellenic Stellar Command is aware of the situation" Vonaka voice paused in its deep rumble, "and has ordered the 95SpineαǼ to intervene immediately on behalf of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol."

A collective grin spread across each of the senior officer's faces.

"Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss," for a long moment he held his tongue while referring to the young woman, "contact the other flotilla captains. Apprise them of the situation and that our ships will be involving themselves in a humanitarian aid to a besieged solar system outside our containment zone. Backup units will be arriving soon to cover our patrol sector and possible reinforcements are on their way."

"I'll start prepping the med-deck and the _Delirium_ to receive refugees and converting space on the _Reason_, _Faire_ and _Dissonant_," Doctor Xianextnucatoital explained. "If we could shift the soldiers on _Salute_ to crowd control on the other ships we could use her as well."

"Contact Captain Roshnua," Admiral Volaska provided, "tell him to start shipping his boys around the fleet."

"Our support tenders are carrying a large amount of supplies we can distribute around the fleet," Engineer Kruxal brainstormed, "freeing up room for refugees and restocking our ships."

They were referring to the _Faire Wind, Dissonant Interval _and _Exalted Reason_ the support ships of the group, carrying enormous amounts goods, supplies and spare parts for a combat active fleet to use. Poorly armed they required a dedicated escort at all times but made up for their defenseless nature by allowing a fleet the size of the 95SpineαǼ to operate months outside of their normal supply range. Fully stocked a fleet the size of the one _Victory_ commanded could operate for almost haft a cycle outside of a normal re-supply run. With three freighters and a dedicated mobile shipyard like the _Lancer's Hope_ the 95SpineαǼ could remain at full combat readiness for almost five cycles.

"I'll start running combat simulations and cataloging our armaments," Alhex noted. "The Cylons are obsolete to us but there's going to be a lot of them to junk."

This combat group was composed of five _Justice_ class missile frigates, the _Andromeda Ajax,_ _Outcast Consensus,_ _Unshattered Allegiance,_ _Pitiless as the Sun _and the _Immaculate Perception_. On top of that she contained one _Eternal_ group defense corvette, _Affirming Flame_, a _Pearl_ class combat carrier loaded to the brim with fighters, _Regimental Hymn_ and a long-range surveillance corvette, _Vault of the Heavens_.

"First contact with not one but two alien powers!" the young communications officer almost squealed in glee. "It's a communications officers dream come true, especially in a region like the Large Magellanic Cloud that is a wasteland of new races. I'll start to reconfigure the translation matrix and reprogram our drones to tap into their comm. networks."

"If we're going up against a mechanical adversary we're going to need some series electronic warfare preparations," Alli was already bringing up multiple displays in her digital environment, calculating which viruses and intrusions would work best against the Cylon's systems. "I'll contact Commander Tagle on the _Mind_ and have him start preparing his men."

_Machinery of the Mind _was a standard _Furious Inflexible_ class electronic warfare frigate, providing the eyes and ears of any standard Guard battle group, for the last two hundred cycles. With multiple arrays of high powered active and passive sensor packages coupled with numerous infiltrations AI's and computer specialists she balanced herself out as a sensor/cyber-space warship. A single _Inflexible_ could enhance a fleet's track correlation and improve efficiency of offensive and defensive operations and ensuring that the firewalls of the group were kept intake. Lightly armed and dependent on its stealth technology to survive any engagement she made up for it by being able to protect and mount cyberspace attacks.

The finest officers in equipment disruption, sensor jamming and information deception used a vast range of stealth, boot, macro and worm viruses to launch an unseen war in any fight. Alli herself held direct command over their ranks, being the only AI in the fleet certified in predictive guesswork and event calculus. As many versed in the battlefield of information warfare knew an artificial intelligence was the best commander to lead her men into the digital fight.

"If we're going to be making multiple combat jumps across an entire solar system I'm going to need to recalculate the entire jump matrix," Thamos said as he was already writing out jump calculations on his holo-screen.

Like all ships in the known galaxies the _Victory_ used the highly advance form of FTL technology known as the Hawke-Morton drive. Before that most races of the universe were dependent on slow hyper-dimensional drives, unpredictable and only capable of a few light-cycles coupled with hours spent cooling down or the hundreds of Mass Relay's that dotted the Milky Way, creating a quick but sporadic system of travel.

While Mass Relays were still popular for their fuel saving transportation and hyper-dimensional drives were used in places where FTL was economically worthless for short distant inter-solar system travel, the Hawke-Morton drive was the choice of faster then light travel.

Two Mars born scientists named Joe Morton and Salli Hawke developed the drive as an outgrowth on micro-tachyon wormholes first pioneered originally as a form of cheap energy. They were very surprised when their proto-type generator suddenly folded around itself and teleported into orbit around Venus. Working in tandem Morton and Hawke managed to shift entirely from quantum string theory to theoretical causality design.

In two cycles they unveiled the Hawke-Morton FTL drive and the primates exploded out into the galaxy. Since then it had been greatly refined and advanced as humanity grew outward from their first unified planetary government called Solorian Federation into the multi-species confederacy that was the Hegemony of Sentients. Now the slowest ship in the entire 95SpineαǼ was capable of a mere three thousand light cycle jump range.

Captain Donatito seemed more then pleased with the idea. "Looks like I have an excuse to get those rookies into combat shape," he grinned. "Drills are going to run around the hour until we jump."

Taking a good hard look at his senior officers Vonaka had only one final order to his crew.

"Make it so and may the gods of war help anyone that get's in our way."

* * *

He at first didn't think it was anything, just another part of his dream. But the rolling ring of the phone wasn't going away. Without even opening his eyes he reached upward and unlatched the device from the wall, hesitating just a second before placing the speaker against his ear.

"Adama, go," he mumbled half asleep.

"_I'm sorry to disturb you, sir_," it was the sound of Mr. Gaeta's voice, the nervous shiver to his words was unmissed by the Command, "_but we've picked up a priority one alert message from Fleet Headquarters. It... it was transmitted in the clear_."

"In the clear?" that was strange to him. Most Colonial transmissions carried some kind of encoding or protection to keep their communications secure. To transmit in the clear meant that urgency had taken precedence over secure. "What does it say?"

"Attention all Colonial units," he hesitated for just a second before finally managing to get the rest of the message out in one quick breath. "Cylon attack underway. This is no drill."

His face went slack and he almost didn't hear his voice or feel his body move to throw his uniform jacket over his shoulders.

"Set condition on throughout the ship," he ordered. "I'll be there in a moment."

Even as he readied himself and moved off towards the CIC, he could hear the announcement racing through the halls.

"_Action stations, action stations_," the crew paused, just for a moment to wonder if it was a joke before springing into action. "_Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill. Repeat, action stations, action stations. Set condition one throughout the ship."_

Inside the CIC everyone was in motion, orders being shouted, reports being passed and the quiet night rotation staff found themselves thrust into duty in the wee hours of the morning.

The CIC was dark, even as the nerve center of the entire ship, its lights were subdued as the screens glowed red with flowing information.

"What've we got?" Colonel Tigh shouted as he entered the command center, his uniform jacket hanging open and a cup of cold coffee in his hands. "Shipping accident?"

Commander Adama was standing at the central console, reading a hastily written report before handing it over to his second in command.

"Combat? Understood," Lieutenant Gaeta nodded into the phone on his ear before quickly dropping it back into its cradle. "Condition one is set, all decks report ready for action, sir."

"Very well," Adama nodded, sliding the reading glasses on his nose a little further up his nose.

"They can't be serious," Tigh tried to manage and failed to push out a laugh. "This is a joke. Fleet's playing a joke on you… a retirement prank. C'mon."

"I don't think so, Saul," he grimly said before turning back to his station. Punching a button on his station and picking up the phone before him, the overhead speaker coughed out a splash of static before finally they cleared to allow the man to address his entire command. "_This is the Commander. Moments ago, this ship received word that a Cylon attack against our homes is underway_."

The dead-pane look of utter shock on just the CIC's staff was enough to make Adama wonder what the rest of his crew was feeling right now. Some covered their mouths, some eye's bugged out, a few tears began to fall but everyone was largely silent.

"_We do not yet know the size or disposition or strength of the enemy forces_," he paused to allow the information to sink in, "_but all indications point to a massive assault against homeworlds defenses_."

As before the assembled crew was silent, unmoving, his second in command simply staring at him like impossibility was becoming reality.

"_Admiral Nagala_," Adama continued, "_has taken personal command of the Colonial Fleet aboard the Battlestar Atlantia... following the destruction of Fleet Headquarters in the first wave of attacks_."

Numb shock is what he was seeing, no one knew how to react, what to do with what they were hearing. It was like the information had sucked all life out of the room.

"_How this could've happened, why it happened…"_ his voice warbled a bit but kept on going, "_none of that matters right now. All that does matter is that as of this moment we are at war. You'll get further updates as we get them. Thank you_."

For a second the entire room was silent, not a single person moved or spoke. The sound of Adama's phone clicking off and falling into its cradle was all that could be heard.

"Tactical," the moment his voice boomed in the silent room everyone started to revered back to life, "begin a plot on all military units in the solar system, friendly and otherwise."

"Yes, sir," Gaeta nodded as he grabbed a grease pen and set to work.

"We're going to need to find a new set of weapon coils," Adama nodded towards his XO across the table who instantly set to work before he turned towards his communication specialist. "D… Pass the word for Lieutenant Thrace. Then send a signal to our fighter squadron. Report position and tactical status."

"Yes, sir," the young woman accepted, a bit of hesitation in her voice before setting to work herself.

"You've trained for this. You're ready for this. Stand to your duties. Trust your shipmates. We'll get through this…"


	4. Chapter Four: Serving the Good

**Chapter Four:** Serving the Good

**Rating**: PG-13

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Feedback**: Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywrited by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

* * *

_It has often and confidently been asserted, that man's origin can never be known: Ignorance more frequently begets confidence than does knowledge: it is those who know little, not those who know much, who so positively assert that this or that problem will never be solved by science._

**Charles Darwin, excerpt from **_**The Descent of Man,**_** circa 1871 C.E.**

* * *

**Time****:**_ Third Month of Ichor, Nineteenth Day, 3021 A.F. Hegemony Calendar / February 21st, 6230 C.E. Terran Calendar Plus Five Hours from Initial Cylon-Hegemony Contact._

**Location****:**_ Inner Core Planets of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, Cyrannus Solar System_

* * *

War...

Just yesterday she was actually excited to be heading back to _Caprica_, have a few days off where she could lounge around her apartment in lazy bliss before she joined the _Raptor_ squadron on the_ Battlestar Chronos_. Now she was feeling like a rookie again, a rookie thrust into the heart of war she felt she was totally unprepared for.

"_Boomer_," Jackson 'Ripper' Spencer's voice crackled over the wireless even if his _Viper_ was several kilometers before them, "_acknowledge Galactica's signal, send them our position_ _tell them we've detected a formation of Cylon fighters directly ahead... and that I intend to attack._"

She didn't move, didn't blink.

Everything around her just seemed to standstill, lost in an unfocused warp as her mind continued to race away by itself.

"_Boomer, do you copy_?" Ripper's voice echoed over the wireless.

She snapped back and the world suddenly came back in a rushing wave of detail and realization.

"Copy that," she quickly barked into the mic, a little louder then she had intended to.

"Ease up there, Boomer," Helo whispered from beside her in the copilot chair. "Take a deep breath and relax."

She nodded, the brim of her helmet bouncing up and down before her eyes as she tried to focus on her instruments, one the task at hand and not the dark future.

"_Boomer_," Roy 'Joy' Matts, the squadrons second in command after Ripper, "_can gimme an update on those Cylons_."

"I show eight..." she responded, her voice struggling to find its anchor for just a second as the dradis screen flashed an update. "No, make that five fighters on course 324-110, speed seven, decimal three. Time to intercept... seven-minutes."

"_You don't sound too sure_?" Joy asked, concern starting to filter over the speakers.

"There's a lot of jamming going on out there," she tried to defend her readings. "Cylons are using a lot of sensor decoys... we're sorting through them, but..."

"_Understood_," Ripper came in to overrule her blundering and his subordinates concerns. "_Just take your time, guide us in, we'll do the rest_."

"Yes, sir..."

* * *

Forty nine AU's out from Cyrannus, the core star of the triple star system that made up the Colonial worlds, a formation of twenty lights flashed into existence before they faded, leaving the ships of the 95SpinwardαǼ plus the _Savior _and the captured _Basestar _in arrowhead formation as they slowed to reorient themselves from the jump.

Onboard _Victory_, Lieutenant Alhex Moneti had to fight to keep his stomach down after the second jump in four hours. Without any rest or food the folding of space around someone slowly wore on them. It was worse in officers like Moneti because in mammalian species the cerebral blood flow swelled, causing minor and persistent vascular headaches. Not dangerous other then the discomfort and irritability it caused.

Being that most of officers onboard in the 95SpinwardαǼ were not mammal they didn't know the resounding and painful aching that pounded in his ears. But pressing that to the side he still did his job.

"Long range sensors are detecting multiple Cylon contacts in orbit around the Colonial homeworlds," he announced to the surrounding C&C. "Nuclear detonations are also present in ever increasing density on the populated planets."

Most worlds had a basic background radiation level barely rating on most standard sensors around an average two or below REM's, röntgen equivalent in man was the unit of radiation dose. At its height only a point five REM was the average on 21st Century pre-unified _Earth_ back when they willfully and foolishly used terrestrial nuclear reactors to create energy. That number had dropped considerably when most nations switched to fusion and moved their power production facilities into orbit for safety concerns but still it was barely noticeable, causing only simple headaches and sleeplessness.

Currently nuclear detonations on the Colonial worlds had raised the average REM levels to between almost three hundred to five thousand REM, anywhere between the two hundreds ensured that whoever was exposed suffer immensely. While it wasn't the miracle of military imagination like the radiation free Photonic Quantum Bomb was for the Hegemony for clean planetary bombardment, nuclear weaponry had its advantages to cripple the enemy not just for the immediate time being but for future generations to come.

On average three hundred REM was enough to ensure a fifty percent fatality rate within thirty days, not considering if infection didn't occur from the uncontrollable bleeding from the mouth, kidneys and skin of its victims.

Five thousand REM on the other hand... well unless a series of cellular regeneration nano-probes were ready for immediate use then the only humane option left was euthanasia. Few wanted to see the effects that an organic creature without proper radiation medication or armor would suffer after an exposure of five thousand REM and above.

Rapid liquidification while conscious to the last second was the only way to describe such a horrific demise.

That also wasn't considering the inevitable nuclear winters that were going to strike the Colonies. If they had not developed fallout scrubbers then the people on the surface were going to see the entire climate of their world shift towards an ice age style environment. Moneti shuddered to think what would happen if any tectonic instability was also triggered by the attack. Imagining billions of innocent people freezing to death with worldwide volcanic eruptions, it was a terrifying image to behold.

"What about the Colonial military?" Vonaka asked as he leaned over the SIT.

"_They are responding but I am reading widespread chaos_," Alli announced as she highlighted several unknown units that were not being designated Cylon in holo-space. "_Numerous battlegroups are cut off from support, intercepted transmissions show their fleet command is destroyed and the surviving admiralty is fighting for control. Admiral Nagala seems to be the most mentioned name but several fleets are arguing against him. Few in the military know who's in charge of the government, though are acknowledging any claim to leadership_."

"Overall the Cylons seem to be trying an attrition strategy," Upsalon noted, remembering his cycles in the _Segav Command School _as an young tactician in training, learning of the particular attack style, "wearing down the Colonials to the point of collapse by slow continuous losses from hit and run attacks with few direct confrontations. The Colonials on the other hand are spread far too thin to put up a major fight but together they are a threat. Jammed communications and only committing to major fleet battles if the Colonial military begins to come together seems to be the Cylon's motive to make sure they can't organize and in order to keep them fractious."

"Damn bastards are also concentrating on civilian targets above all," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss cursed. "I'm intercepting communications screaming about the Cylons nuking major cities, sending their mechaniods to slaughter pockets of survivors and hunting down everything that can run."

"_I believe someone once droned the phrase, 'if your enemy goes to ground, leave no ground to go to'_," Alli quoted.

"Trying to make sure the military eventually has no one left to protect," Thamos chirped as he brought the ship to a full stop, "plus any chance of a considerable and prolonged retaliation."

Turning back towards the officers surrounding the SIT he continued to talk. "I have programmed the coordinates the Cylon fleet was using for their first strike combat jumps. Their more than five hours old from the initial attack but its somewhere to start."

"Open up a general hail on all low and high radio bands," Vonaka ordered as he moved away from the SIT and back to his chair at the center of the C&C. "I want everyone with a handheld to a radio telescope to hear this."

"You're on," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss nodded a second later.

"_This is Admiral Vonaka Volaska_," his gruff baritone voice echoed over the loudspeakers across not only the fleet but the entire solar system, "_commander of the 95SpinwardαǼ Space Guard Fleet, military brigadier force of the Hegemony of Sentient World. We are here ordering the Cylon Imperium to stand down from their attacks on the Twelve Colonies of Kobol immediately or face retaliation from our forces. If we detect any further incursions into Colonial space we will respond in force. If you do not cease your attack in the next five minutes we will act with full military retaliation_."

For a full minute everyone on the bridge held their breath. They all collective exhaled in surprise when as combat alarms began to sound.

"Admiral!" Alhex yelled as he reconfigured the SIT for battle, "I am reading four of their _Basestars_ have jumped two hundred thousand kilometers off our port bow. Sensors can confirm they are deploying fighters and arming nuclear warheads."

"This is our answer people," Vonaka commanded. "Put me on with the rest of the fleet."

"You are go," announced Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss.

"_This_ _is Admiral Volaska_," again his deep voice sounded now just throughout the fleet, "_as you can see our friends the Cylons have decided that our warning wasn't strong enough to stop their massacre so I am ordering plan-B to take effect. You have your target worlds to defend, jump in and guard their populations from these invaders. Permission is given to take any means necessary to keep them safe short of weapons of planetary destruction. Repeat WPD's are no go's. Your ships are ready and your crews are trained. May the goddesses smile on you from now until Armageddon_."

Acknowledgements came other eighteen ships and moments later they started to jump away in succession, leaving _Victory_ and her escort the _Mind_ and _Salute_ and the captured _Basestar _to face down the four enemy warships.

The Cylon's never had a chance.

"Bring us about, heading five one five, cycle main plasma cannons," Vonaka commanded, "load full offensive salvo and hold gunnery crews until my mark."

"Cannons have taken targets," Upsalon confirmed, "salvo is loaded."

"Gunnery crews are waiting for your command," Alhex asked.

"Engines to full burn," Volaska pushed, "I want to be able to see their eyes when we open fire."

"Engines to one hundred percent output," Thamos nodded as he pushed the throttle on the navigation console to full. "Main drive is accelerating us to twenty percent the speed of light and rising. AG-field is compensating for time dilation."

"Alli?" Volaska asked to the surrounding air of the C&C deck.

A moment later the hologram of his ship incarnate appeared directly in front of him. "_Yes, Admiral_," she announced, hands poised behind her semi-transparent back.

"You know what you have to do," he said.

The AI nodded at her call to duty. "_They're a little green for my tastes but considering I lack any form of a taste pallet they will have to do_."

"And who says you weren't installed with a humor replication program," Vonaka smiled.

Alli only nodded, her holographic features incapable of projecting a smile but she created a close proximity of one. "I try my best, Admiral."

"Just," he cautioned, "be careful."

"_Thank you, Vonaka_." Her voice was quiet and calm as her see through eyes stared at him for a brief nano-second.

Moments later Alli's holographic body flickered out of existence.

* * *

"_We just felt another blast here_," the radio crackled against the static but quickly the signal returned. "_If anyone can still hear me, are we on? I'm gonna keep broadcasting as long as I can. It keeps getting closer-_"

A boom, a crash and then the signal was gone in a scream of static.

Shouting spilled out of the assembled passengers all huddled around the wireless radio, trying to regain the station and quickly understanding their signal wasn't dead, it was the man on the other end that was.

"He was saying blasts!" a woman shouted. "Did something happen on one of the Colonies?"

"It's probably those damn Sagitarrons," another man added. "They think just because they blow up some government buildings it will get their message across."

"Don't you say that-"

Laura couldn't stand it any longer, the speculation, the fighting, the verbal sparring going on as they continued to go on and on in circles of self-doubt and confusion. Rising up from her seat she moved down the aisle, ignoring Billy as he called out after her.

She was going to find out what was going on once and for all.

Through the first class cabin, past the empty galley and down the stairs towards the cockpit, she was just bringing her hand up to knock against the barrier when suddenly the door swung open and she found herself staring at the worried face of Captain Russo.

"Yes?" he asked, though from the blank expression in his eyes Laura knew he could care less.

"One of the passengers has a short-wave wireless," she explained, quickly noticing the man's ears perked up when he knew where this was going. "They heard a report that Caprica's been nuked."

The look on his face was all she need, like the entire world had just come to an end and he was the messenger

"It's true isn't it?" she pushed, wanting to hear him say it, confirm her worries.

"_Caprica_..." he hesitated, as if words escaped him for a moment before he regained his composure, "and three more colonies..."

He handed over a print out, crumpled in his fingers but still legible enough for Laura to read each and every word.

"I guess..." the man stammered, running a hand over his forehead to get ride of the beaded sweat gathering on his brow, "I guess I should make an announcement or something..."

But as Laura glanced up at him she knew he was in no condition to make such a declaration, he was in shock, adrift in his own world. He was in no condition at all.

"I'll do it," she cut him off, though the relief that folded his eyes was not lost on her. "I'm a member of the cabinet. Guess I better start acting like one. I need to contact the Ministry of Civil Defense. See what we can do to help."

Turning back, she could only hear him mumble "Can't believe this is really happening..." before he slammed the door shut again and she was alone.

Once again she walked the stairs, into the galley and back into the first class cabin, the entire time staring at the paper in her hands.

"May I have your attention please," the chattered, the small talk and discussion in the cabin came to a stop as all eyes turned towards her.

The words spilled out and slowly she could see the aghast looks, the terror that rose and the unabated horror at the news she delivered.

"...including the colonies of _Caprica, Picon, Gemenon_ and _Tauron_."

The moment she finished, the moment she was quiet the silence was deafening.

"No... no... no..." the first person to break the noiseless hush was a woman in the front row, dropping her hands into her hands and weeping openly.

"What about _Aquaria_?" a man shouted, launching up from his seat in the back of the cabin. "Anything on _Aquaria_?"

"What're we going to do?" a man shouted from the other side of the room.

"I have to get home!" someone else screamed beside him. "I have to get home!"

"Please... please..." she tried her best to keep order but quickly her temper flared. "_THAT'S ENOUGH_!"

The panic came to a crashing halt as again all eyes turned towards her.

"We are trying to contact the government right now and get more information," she explained softly, trying to bring some order to this heated discussion. "In the meantime, we should be prepared for an extended stay aboard this ship. Okay, so... You... you... and you," she pointed towards the three stewardesses at the back of the cabin. "Make an inventory of the emergency supplies and rations."

"Wait a minute..." all eyes turned towards Doral who protested the sudden power Laura seemed to wielding. "Who put you in charge?"

"That's a good question," Laura answered in a dangerous tone that dripped authority. "The answer is no one. But this is a government ship and I'm the senior government official, so I guess that makes me in charge. You and you... go down into the cargo spaces and see about setting up living space. Everyone else, sit tight... try to relax. I promise you when we have more information you'll know."

The cabin remained incredibly quiet afterwards, the shock of the situation had driven most people into their own shells of anguish and distress.

"Here's the passenger manifest," she handed over a clipboard to Billy who had magically appear beside her. As she passed the metal tablet over her eyes caught the tremble in his hands. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I uh... yeah," the normally professional boy tried to keep his cool. "My, uh,... my parents moved to _Picon_ three months ago... to be closer to my sisters... and their families... their grandkids..."

She could only nod, what else could she say. Before anything else could be exchanged between them Captain Russo was again at her side.

Laura nods. What can she say? Billy holds it together for the moment, looks for something else

to talk about.

"Madame Secretary?" he placed a hand on her shoulder and quickly ushered her back to the cockpit. "We've got your comm link."

Back through the galley, down the stairs and into the claustrophobic cockpit she found herself sitting back in the empty copilot chair as Captain Russo passed over a head set.

"This is Secretary Roslin," she spoke into the mic beside her lips, waiting for the cackle of a response over the wireless airwaves.

"Laura!" a familiar but stressed voice echoed in the headset. "Thank Gods you're not here, Laura. Thank Gods. It's complete chaos... never seen anything like it... the dust in the air... people wandering the streets..."

"Jack," she tried to calm the ramblings of the Secretary of Civil Defense, he was quickly degrading into a babbling mess. "Where is the President? Does anyone know where President is, Jack? Is he alive?"

"I don't know," the man responded without pause. "I think so... we hear all kinds of things... I know the President was in Caprica City when..."

He trailed off as they both understood what he was implying.

"Do you know if the Cylons have made any demands?" she had to ask it, wonder if this war could have an end. "Do we know what they want? Has anyone discussed the possibility of... surrender? Has it been considered?"

"After _Picon_ was nuked," Jack gasped desperately into his end of the mic, "the what was left of the Quorum offered a complete, unconditional surrender. The Cylons didn't even respond but they nuked Rnigh and took out … last … representatives…"

The transmission cut out, a spark of static and then blank nothing.

"What is it?" Laura shouted as she turned towards Russo. "Where he'd go?"

"The Cylons have started jamming all the channels," the man explained as he cycles through several wireless wavelengths with no more success. "We're completely blind..."

* * *

Another '_X_' on the tactical display board, another _Battlestar_ lost in the melee of a war barely hours old. Adama regarded the update, not paying any attention to the enlisted man that seemed to be sniffling and whipping his eyes as he scurried out of sight.

"That would put our squadron about here" Lieutenant Gaeta pointed towards a smaller icon on the far side of the tactical display board. He hesitated just an instance before down-casting to a much larger grouping of marks on the bottom of the display. "It looks like the main fight is shaping up over here near _Virgon's_ orbit. Even at top speed, they're still over an six-hours away."

"And it'll take us," he glanced his readouts for information, "at least eight..."

"What the hell's going on?" no one had to guess that Kara had just ended the CIC, especially with that declaration. No even breaking his stare from the tactical display he handed over the report in his hands and waited for the woman's response. "Why didn't we get an intel warning? How could the Cylons get all the way to _Caprica_ without being detected?"

"Good questions," the Commander agreed, turning back to the central console in the middle of the CIC. "All we know for sure is that the Cylons have achieved complete surprise and we're taking heavy losses. Twenty _Battlestars_ destroyed in the opening attack."

"That's a sixth of the fleet," Kara was shocked, not even the last war had the Colonial military taken such a hit of that magnitude.

But they couldn't get lost in the thoughts of loss and pain, mourning those that had perished in a conflict that was supposed to have been over four decades ago.

"I need pilots and fighters, Kara," he intercut. "Our only squadrons almost an hour out and we have _Raiders_ pilling up."

"Pilots you got," the woman nodded, shoving her shock to the side and switching back into her military mode. "There's twenty of us climbing the walls down in the ready room. But fighters..."

"I seem to remember seeing an entire squadron of fighters down in the starboard hangar deck..."

* * *

"_Captain Lynnette_," Alli announced her presence to the commanding officer of the _Machinery of the Mind _as she projected her holographic avatar on the bridge. "_You have your go ahead. I will lead you in but once you're inside their core network you are free to do as you see fit_."

"You fly," the captain countered, "we'll shoot."

"_Understood, I will prepare for transition_," Alli barely noticed the joke. "_I suggestion you do the same_."

"Jack up and download boys, girls and undecided," he yelled at his assembled officers. "We're going cyber-side."

Using a drive link to central processor onboard the capture Cylon _Basestar_, which now held position defenselessly behind the _Mind_, Alli jacked right into the heart of the Cylon computer network as if she was walking through a revolving door and into a hotel lobby.

To '_jack in_' as many in the Hegemony and more specifically the Space Guard playfully called it was to link into the cyber-world of networked computers through any degree of cybernetic implant. While most people used it on an everyday basis for the streamlined gathering, dispersion and use of information or data much like cell-phones had been before their banning in the early-21st century, the Space Guard had taken it one step further. As most cybernetic implants were intended to download information, process it into neural impulses and chemical data to be transmitted into the brain; the Specialists of the CWD or Cyber Warfare Division did the reverse, transferring themselves into the computers instead of vice versa.

As the _Victory_ and the _Mind_ opened fire with everything in their arsenals a special strike team was being led under cover of cyberspace. Fifty highly trained CWD technicians, five low-level AI's and a very powerful warship computer dove deep into the enemy computer information structure for one purpose.

Alli first used a hard-line link installed on the captured _Basestar_ to jump to closest of the four _Basestars_ as a launch pad into the rest of the Cylon network, putting down backdoor programs and establishing a route for Captain Lynnette and his officers to upload into. At the same time she assigned the various low-level AI's with the tasks of hotwiring, hijacking and rewriting key portions of the Cylon operating code to function in a more intrusion friendly manner.

AI subroutine Alpha-Beta-Six-One-Theta-One, or Abene as his designation was, scurried off into the power production facilities of _Basestar Gamma 73,_ where he promptly corrupted the atomization rate of the ship's reactor. He pulled out just in time as the uranium/tylium molecules began to collide at a rate faster than the power plant could control. The result was the _Basestar's_ sudden detonation over _Gemenon_.

Iota-One-One-Zero-Zion-Three, Essebar as he was called, focused his attention on the sensor information for a Cylon fleet holding position in the outer Oort Cloud of the solar system. By reconfiguring the target computers to mistake each other as Colonial warships the eight _Basestars_ wasted little time opening fire on each other.

But these AI's were all low grade hackers compared to Lynnette's team, simply meant to act as distractions as the heavy guns pulled themselves into place.

The organic mind was the ultimate computer when let loose into cyberspace and with some effort the officers started to created trouble in the Cylon network.

Ensign Regneva rerouted the docking thrusters for a _Basestar_ orbiting _Zeus_, the second of the solar system's four outer gas giants, plunging the vessel into the crushing gravity of the planet.

Lieutenant Chaim hacked control of the _Raider_ launch mechanism on another warship near _Virgon's_ moon of _Ithaca_, instigating the launch of more than a dozen fighters from their pads without opening the docking bay doors. The internal and secondary explosions crippled the craft.

But compared to Alli they were all amateurs.

She concentrated on the high value targets, like one of the five _Resurrection_ _Ships_ spread across the Cyrannus system.

First she linked into the personal network the onboard Hybrid used, where she quickly sent a rapid series of queries into the network housing transfer requests for black ops spy missions for humanoid Cylons. Being the height of the war the node was almost empty, so she overloaded it with a billion different pings per-minute.

The system filled up in barely a blink of an eye and without proper processing space to compensate the network imploded and crashed.

It's demise was so quick the Hybrid only noticed something was wrong when one of its data nodes went dark and it quickly attempted to recover and reboot the system, causing all the networks around it to lag... including what Alli really wanted access to, Network 9, fleet movements and deployments.

And with ease Alli slipped in under the Cylon's nose.

Masquerading as a systems check program she quickly copied the coordinates of most of the immediate Cylon fleet and transmitted it back to Lieutenant Moneti on _Victory_ who would get some serious use out of them.

Now it was time to have some fun.

Alli quickly switched herself from a system check to administrator, launching several critical orders for Cylon battle-groups to respond to gathering Colonial fleets. Feeding the proper coordinates she watched as several previous dormant ships broke from position and jumped to where she had specified.

Too bad most of the locations were inside the local stars.

Six _Basestars_ disappeared from the universe before she deemed her stay over and retreated back out of the network.

"_The Cylons are effectively riled up_," she reported a second later as she appeared back on Victory's command deck. "_I can confirm that our hacking has destroyed twenty nine Basestars, crippled nine and confused their forces enough to give the Colonials an edge in the war_."

"Good work," Vonaka congratulated, "now we just have to see if eighteen Space Guard ships are enough to take on the entire Cylon armada."

Alli only put her holographic hands on her translucent hips.

"_I almost feel bad for them_," she chirped.

* * *

"Wireless?"

Beside Laura, Captain Russo shook his head again, finishing his third attempt of cycling through the channels and still getting nothing. It had only been an hour since the Cylons had started jamming their communications and suddenly for the first time Laura was starting to feel truly alone all the way out here.

"Military channels are still jammed," her companion shrugged as he switched the comms off. "No one's getting through."

"Situations going to get worse before it gets better," Laura agreed. "I think we need to bring in an expert."

"I'll contact Captain Apollo," Russo nodded. "Thankfully the short-range channels are clear."

Thirty-minutes later Lee was guiding his _Viper_ into the lower hangar bay, precariously balancing the tiny ship into the much larger cruise liner.

"Easy... easy..." he mumbled as he had t cautiously fight the engines, as the cumbersome craft seemed to have a mind of its own at times, "not too fast... that's it..."

An instant later the floor was falling into place below him and the white gas of refreshing atmosphere began to fill the cargo bay. The moment his internal systems confirmed it was safe, his canopy rolled back to allow the stank air of recycled filled his nostrils.

"Are you all right, Captain?" he turned his visor down to see a man in a annoying red sports coat beside his ship, nervously clutching a clipboard in his hands. "I'm Aaron Doral with Public Relations."

"Fine," Apollo nodded as he unlatched his helmet and clambered down from his ship. "This old bird is just falling apart. Another second out there and I swear the frakking wings were going to fall off."

"You don't know how glad I am to see you," the man breathed a sigh of relief.

Apollo shot him a perplexed look. "Why's that?"

"Well," Doral shrugged as if it meant nothing. "Personally I would feel a lot better if someone qualified were in charge around here."

"Something wrong with your pilot?" Lee asked with some level of concern starting to rise in his stomach.

"He's not the one giving orders," was all Aaron would offer before turning tail and crossing the cargo bay.

Through Cargo Bay 3, Lee took notice that of the groups of passengers being set to work, moving crates, setting up cots. They were an intermix of stewardesses, crewmen from _Galactica_ on their return trip and even a few well dressed individuals down from the first class and coach seating. They seemed to be setting up for an extended stay, which piqued his interests as his comms were already on the fritz before the Cylon jamming began.

Up the three flights of stairs to the first class cabin, he found the luxury area of the vessel entirely empty, save for one woman holding a blanket over head shoulders and hunched over a diagram of the liner, a young man hovering over her shoulder and an older man in a civilian captain's uniform.

"What if we transferred the L-containers from bay three to bay four?" Laura calmly and contently reported. "Then we could use one, two, and three for passengers."

"It's doable," Russo nodded, taking a long swig of his cold coffee. "Lot of heavy lifting without dock loaders, though."

"A little hard work is just what people need right now," she smiled genuinely from behind her thick rimmed glasses. Suddenly she noticed the arrival of her requested guest. "Captain. Good to see you again."

"Likewise," Lee smiled before taking notice of Russo rising to depart. "Thanks for the lift."

"Thank her," he bowed his head back to Laura. "She's the one that wanted you on board."

Laura shot him a look but already the Captain was heading back to the cockpit, giving her a chance to address Captain Adama.

"Start the cargo transfer and then prep Bay Two and Three for survivors," nodded towards his assistant, the young man quickly scurried off to do his bosses orders.

"Survivors?" Lee asked confused.

"As soon as the attack began," Roslin explain, "the government ordered a complete stop on all civilian space travel. So now we've got hundreds of stranded ships in the solar system. Everything from freighters to passenger liners to leisure vessels to commercial transports... you name it. Some are damaged, some are lost, and some are losing power. We have enough space to accommodate up to five hundred people on this ship alone and we're going to need every bit of it."

"But," Aaron was quick to interest himself into the discussion, "we don't even know what the tactical situation is out there..."

"The tactical situation is that we're losing," Laura bluntly reported as she fixed her eyes on Lee. "Right, Captain?"

It was impossible to lie to her.

"Right," Lee answered without pause.

"Then we pick up the people we can and try to find a safe haven to put down," Laura ordered as she gathered herself up and made ready to depart. "Captain, I'd like you to look over the navigational charts for a likely place to hide from the Cylons. That's all."

And without a second longer the woman was gone, the blanket she had wrapped over her shoulders swaying in the cabin air as she departed.

Lee immediately felt Aaron's eyes on his back and he knew without asking what the man was thinking.

"Lady's in charge..."

* * *

"Stay down, stay down," Anders hissed as he crouched as low to the ground as his knees would allow him. "I said stay down!"

The rest of the team did as he instructed, hugging the wall that ran along the bridge they had come across six miles from camp.

"What's going on over there?" Jean in a tight whisper, too scared to chance a glance over the nearby wall, scanned his face in concern.

"What is that?" Hillard asked from beside Anders.

Sam stared at them for just a second, trying to see something with just the corner of his eye exposed. One glance however was all he needed and in a second he was back down in hiding, sweat starting to bed on his forehead.

"It's the Cylons," Jean correctly deduced from the look on the other man's face.

Slowly he leaned upward again, knowing that what was on the other side left him cautious but still needing absolute confirmation before he pushed his fears onto his team mates.

Over the wall of the bridge, down on the ground below, a pair of Centurions marched towards a metallic-like shed in the middle of parched sand spot. Between the two of them they dragged a scorched black Centurion towards the structure, a recent victim of a failed attack a few hours before.

From the opposite side of the clearing another Centurion approached, its arms filled with broken scraps, one of which was clearly a severed mechanical arm. Both groups approached the building, obviously a recent addition from the crushed ferns and bushes beneath it. Dropping their packages, all three Centurions turned about, completely unnoticing of their deposits, and marched off into the tree line for whatever unanswered orders they had received.

The doors of the shed slide open and a pair of smaller, stumpy looking Centurions approached their destroyed comrades, three sets of arms quickly setting to work by shearing off the broken parts and applying new ones with startling success.

"Oh Gods," Anders whispered and the second he realized he had spoken, possibly giving his position away, he was down on the ground so quick the asphalt was crushed into his face.

"What do you see?" Coach asked, obviously concerned.

"It definitively the Cylons," Sam breathed out all in one breath. "They're guarding some kind of container."

It must have been an unspoken hint because everyone now was chancing a glance over the bridge wall, to catch a glimpse of what he had seen. It was a brief few second… until the rising Cylon _Raider_ blocked their view, joined a second later by the second of its pair.

Both crafts rotated about, their engines blasting dust from the bridge, forcing the entire team to duck for cover. Roaring with power, both fighters rushed off into the sky, arching up into the clouds and disappearing a second later into the blue.

Sam's stomach was in his throat, he had to fight the bile down and his nerves were starting to frazzle at their ends.

"What do you wanna do, Coach?" Jean hissed in terror.

"I don't know," the Coach mumbled, before his eyes turned towards Sam. "What do you think?"

"I don't know," Anders' mouth was dry, all he wanted to do was take his wobbling legs back to camp and hide under his bunk. "We can't stay here. We gotta go. Everybody, stay low, stay fast. Let's go!"

* * *

The velvet rope hit the ground, the clank of metal echoed through the empty hangar bay. Stepping over the obstruction, Kara waltz over to the nearest _Viper_, the cold white and fire red stripped seeming to attract her as she quickly claimed it as her own.

"You sure they'll fly?" she asked, looking back to Chief Tyrol and the wave of deckhands he was leading towards the other antique _Vipers_ that lined the museum floor.

"Just have to put the rad buffers in the engines," the man quickly gave the engines of the fighter a once over, "maybe pull the gun safeties. Bigger problems getting them over to the port launch bay."

"Why can't we use starboard launch?" Kara shot him a look.

"Ah," he hesitated, knowing that no matter how he phrased it she wasn't going to like his explanation. "It's a gift shop now."

"Frak me..."

* * *

A graveyard...

That's all that remained of what was once one of the largest space station in the Colonies and an uncountable number of ships. The floating debris, broken hulks and frozen bodies contoured in the pains of terrible decompression death created a hellish ring of death over _Caprica_. And like sharks prowling the carcass of their kill a pair of _Basestars_ orbited through carnage, unhindered and unspoiled in their victory over the Colonial capital world.

Yet the warships had no idea they were be observed, scrutinized and dissected by distant eyes.

"Intercepted transmissions confirm those are two ships in command of the other eight Cylon warships in orbit around the planet we have identified as _Caprica_," Lieutenant Adela Nikki David declared as she came around from her side of the holo-tank to join her commanding officer. "They are targeting military bases and major population centers."

"_Primarily they are shoring up around the north western continent where the Colonial capital city is_," added Harrison, his transparent body of the AI flashing in next to Adela.

"They are attempting to remove the Colonial's government by vaporizing every inch of soil on their primary world," Captain Lawbaaut guessed. "I'd say pride is getting the better of them."

"_Current conditions on the Colonial world are rapidly deteriorating_," Harrison continued, detailed information across his holographic body. "_Best estimate is four hours until their ground forces are overwhelmed while the Cylons hold total space supremacy. Civilian causalities are incalculable at this time but most likely will be sever around metropolitan areas_."

"Maybe we should lighten the load on the Colonials?" communications officer Ensign Gnoid Gwant grinned lavishly.

"I have already triangulated ship positions, fighter formations and weak points," Adela detailed as the SIT zoomed out to bring the full expanse of _Caprica_ and the afore mentioned _Basestars_ flared to life. "Several well placed plasma barrages and we can eliminate their forward units but enemy fighter screens are spread out, amply armed and almost eight hundred strong."

"So if we remove the capital ships," Lawbaaut understood the Adela's implications, "nothing is going to stop the fighters from overwhelming us by sheer numbers."

The _Dynamic_ was designed for heavy forward fighting, their ships were well known for their penchant for taking the position as a frontline combat fleets. While holding only one plasma cannon compared to the _Victory's_ three, the _Dynamic_ countered for a lack of a wider firing arc for a more concussive impact over a greater range.

It was like comparing the rust butcher to a surgical laser.

But in exchange for a massive amount of fire power poured into one weapon the _Dynamic_ had to sacrifice several anmities to make this possible, point defense lasers were one of these. While she could hold toe to toe with capital ships, fighters were a nuisance verging on serious problem for the _Anole_-class. That was why the _Ares_ were becoming the favorite of the fleet, they were a well rounded, less resource costly option over the _Anoles _and it was going to be the eventual demise of the entire line.

"Captain Choc'Colgate is saying his medical teams are ready for combat drops but they'll need cover," XO Commander Mia Fabian murmured, acknowledging their companion ship, the Quantum Tractate Delirium.

The _Delirium _was a _Parker_-class medical ship, a major improvement over last century's _Nightingale_-class in almost every category. Built around a single engineering hull the _Delirium_ held her shaped like a fish, a long design that tapered off in two massive engines that pressed the illusion of fins on the craft and most of her one thousand patients found comfortable beds along her bulging port and starboard edges, and isolation wards and laboratories clustered around the aft along a tightening body. A key feature of the _Delirium_ was its modularity, the ability for the crew to switch out and equip the vessel with mission packages of all kinds, allowing the _Delirium_ to perform disaster relief, evacuation, medical and humanitarian aid.

"We need to get the _Delirium_ and our teams under their radar and halt those nuclear launches," their commanding officer ordered. "Prepare for a Octavius Drop."

The moment his orders were announced his crew was rushing to complete them.

An Octavius Drop was a dangerous, complex and necessary combat maneuver employed when ground forces were about to be overwhelmed but space superiority was still held by the enemy in orbit. First employed when Turanic Raiders had besiege the colony of _Octavius Majura _and the local militia was about to fall, two Space Guard warships had made a pin point jump into the planet's orbit, just barely grazing the atmosphere. Redeploying themselves as shields they protected the dozens of drop ships they launched, reinforcing ground positions without having to remove a superior threat in orbit first.

_Dynamic_ was about to perform a similar maneuver, just a step further.

"Prepping all landing crews," Ensign Gwant reported. "Away team commanders are checking in now."

Below deck the launch bay was a chaotic explosion of movement, shuttles rolling into their magnetic launchers, rescue personnel suiting up and one very stern man glaring down on each and every one of them.

"Now listen up ladies, gentleman, transgendered and undecided lifeforms!" General Nicholas Tanners boomed over an assembled group of thirty officers, a distinct southern twang in his voice. "We are making combat drops in a hot zone, on top of that we are dealing with a pre-contact society dealing with near genocide on epic levels. You are to administer whatever aid and help to those in need but not at the cost of your own life! Prep for high radiation fallout and thermal shearing from the nuclear detonations and have nano-meds ready if we have any spikes. Understood!"

"_Sir_!" a chorus of hoots, yells and clicks answered him.

"Drops in sixty seconds. Anyone not on a shuttle is missing their ride," he smirked as several laughs returned to him. "Move out!

Above deck the rushing and sting of energy in the air was no different.

"Powering AG-field to full, fighter squadrons are in the tubes," Lieutenant Adela called out, "forward batteries loaded."

"Tell the _Delirium_ to follow us in," Captain Lawbaaut ordered, "we'll cover them and make combat drops ourselves. Moment we're empty, break us off and cause enough damage to draw all attention away from the planet."

"Core reactor is functioning at one hundred percent," Chief Engineer Thunghoud Timov declared.

"Jump drive is triangulated," navigation officer Ensign Rentec Marlop confirmed, "navigational coordinates in place. Pin-point hop is a go."

"_Delirium_ is in condition blue," Gnoid said.

"Engage," and that's all Lawbaaut had to ask before the _Dynamic_ jumped, and the moment later had crossed the two-hundred thousand kilometers into the upper atmosphere of _Caprica_.

Immediately six thrusters on the forward port side and the aft starboard side sprung to life, rotating the forward bow of the ship away from the planet and pointing out into space. Port thrusters went to full, sending _Dynamic_ into a sideways trip over _Caprica's_ equator.

Scrapping her backside across the atmosphere it almost as if the _Dynamic's_ backside was on fire, charge ions burning off into an aurora of light.

Once her acrobatic spiral was complete it didn't take a second's breath, her forward plasma cannon and half a dozen missile tubes lit up the night.

The first _Basestar_ barely registered it was under attack until the vessel was sliced in two. Even as the broken craft split into burning flames the missiles struck, reducing the warship to nothing more than a cloud of debris.

Its partner rushed into action, its _Raiders_ and missiles streaming forward t the interloper.

With several meters of Neo-steel armor the _Dynamic_ shrugged off the hits and kept firing, another bolt of plasma arching out to find its prey. It missed, the _Basestar_ learning quick enough to dodge the energy beam. Yet that didn't mean a good dozen _Raiders_ escaped untouched as the chaotic power overwhelmed their systems and destroyed the tiny crafts.

But this entire exchange wasn't really a battle, it was a diversion.

Behind the wave of death the _Delirium_ had jumped directly into the atmosphere, the ship dropping quickly before her AG-field compensated and slowed her approach. Rolling into alignment with _Caprica_ and pushing its engines beyond the safety norm the medical ship raced into the atmosphere, its fish-like form transforming into a ball of fire as the vessel roared in a violently fast approach.

Simultaneously the _Dynamic's_ launch bays dislodged dozens of small shuttles, fighters and assorted small ships. Designed for forward combat the _Anole_-class kept her docking bays along her aft side. When diving headlong into battle it would have been a critical weakness to have a deep break in their armor that contained many refueling facilities for its smaller crafts.

"All shuttles and fighters launched," Commander Fabian yelled as another nuke impact shock the room. "We're clear!"

"_Delirium_ is into the stratosphere!" Gwant called out over the warning klaxons.

"Repower the AG-field and push the engines to full!" Lawbaaut screamed. "Time to do some hunting!"

* * *

"_Viper One-Nine_, clear forward," Captain Kelly announced as he clicked off the needed switches on his station. "Nav-con green, interval check, thrust positive and... maglock is secure, initiating launch sequence. Good-bye._"_

The pilot gave him a thumb up from the glass enclosure of her cockpit and an instant later the _Viper_ was vaulting forward and down the length of the port launch tube as the magnetic lock hauled the craft at breakneck speeds.

_Ten down, ten to go_, Kelly thought to himself.

The moment the internal sensors confirmed the _Viper_ had launched and the proper airlocks were in place, he opened the hangar doors to allow another fighter to be loaded into the launcher.

_"Galactica, Viper 17," _Starbuck's voice echoed over the speakers in the launch control booth._ "Ready."_

"_Viper 17_," Kelly nodded as he did a once over through the flight control systems of his station, "clear forward, nav-con green, interval check, thrust positive and... engine intake is fluctuating. Abort launch."

The internal systems of the fighter's engine relays were starting to ebb and flow, too much at one point, too little at another. Launch now and her engines could go out like a firecracker or to pieces like a small nuke.

"_Viper 17, copy that_," the woman nodded as she deactivated her systems and de-powered the radiation radiating engines. "_Throttle down, tube safe_."

The triangular hatch of the hangar bay slide out of place and in a second Chief Tyrol was rushing in, flanked by his two deckhands Michael Prosna and Alonso Socinus.

She watched them as the canopy of her fighter popped back, unsnapping her helmet and tossed is aside as the men began to crawl over her _Viper_.

"Three frakking aborts, Chief!" She shouted back at the trio, even as Tyrol was already crawling under the main drive assembly of the craft.

"We're on it, sir," Socinus tried to sooth his superior as he inserted a relay scanner into the ships outport computer. "It's the pressure reg valve again."

"We should pull it," Prosna shook his head even if he was agreeing. "We don't have a spare."

_"Attention, inbound Dradis contact," _Lieutenant Gaeta's voice rang through the hangar deck, for a second everyone paused in place and listened._ "Rating highly probable enemy fighter. All hands stand-by for battle maneuvers."_

"LET'S GO!" Kara shouted, getting the orange jump suit men and women to start moving again.

Throwing back on her helmet, she listened to the wireless chatter reverberating inside her helmet speakers, trying to keep her emotions under control as this nerve-wracking battle played out like an old-style radio program.

"_This is Duck, I have lead," _Lieutenant Tucker Clellan reported as Kara could hear the distinct roar of the engines in the background._ "All Vipers form up on me."_

_"_What if we just pull the valve and bypass the whole system?" Cally shouted, the small woman was hanging off the _Viper's_ dorsal wing.

"_Duck, Galactica," _Gaeta' voice echoed over the intercoms._ "Contact bearing 234-189, speed seven decimal five, range 601 and closing."_

"Can't do that," Prosna protested, "the relay'll blow a...

_"Copy that," _Clellan acknowledged over the wireless._ "We've acquired the target. I have weapons lock. Firing."_

Beside the ship, the deckhands fought, gesturing wildly as mechanical terms flew like curses in the air.

"It'll hold, I'm telling you," Socinus objected. "I put that relay in myself."

_"No good... damn!" _some unknown pilot shouted over the wireless._ "Look at him move._"

"How much longer, Chief?" Starbuck bellowed back at the deckhands.

_"I can't get a lock!" _another voice yelled over the speakers. "_Bay's been hit!"_

"Okay!" Tyrol howled. "Pull the valve!"

As the men and woman set to work to completely tear and stitch the engine back together, the unseen battle continued to play itself out.

_"Firing," _Lieutenant Dwight 'Flat Top' Saunders reported_. "Miss!"_

"_Engines all ahead full_!" Now it was Commander Adama's voice over the loudspeakers straight from the CIC.

"_Ahead full, sir_," Colonel Tigh's voice sounded in the background. "_Engines report ahead full._"

"_Watch it, watch it!" _Branuelle "Puppet" Bronte called out "_I've got him! No I don't."_

"_Bow up half_," Commander Adama's voice joined the verbal battle again, "_forward right one quarter, stern left full_."

"_I can't get a shot!" Lieutenant _Emmitt 'Sweetness' Jones hissed through the speakers. _"Snowball, do you have a shot?"_

_"Trying... Damn!" _Peggy 'Snowball' Karn,_ "How does he move like that?"_

"Ready!" Prosna shouted as he slapped the the service hatch on the engine close.

"Clear the tube!" Tyrol ushered his mechanics out of the tube, himself only sliding out as the hangar airlock slammed into position.

"_Galactica, Viper 17_ ready!" Starbuck slammed her canopy close and began to activate her internal systems.

"_Interval check," _Kelly quickly shot through the preflight check as his systems began to flash green._ "Thrust positive and... steady. Launching… Goodbye..."_

* * *

The deck took a pitch and she had to fight to keep her feet on the steel plating below her, even if the smooth, chrome surface left little friction to keep her boots in proper place.

Alarms screamed everywhere as the deck took another sick angle, rocking to and fro as the world seemed to be dying around her. Wobbly she staggered down the corridor, past the dozens of doors that lined the hall and centering her eyes on the stairs at the end of the walkway.

Stepping lightly, she tried to avoid the corpse on the deck, keeping her boots out of the splash of dark blood that only threatened to take her feet out from under her again.

Again the ground seemed to throttle up and about, smacking her against the nearest wall with a terrible thud.

She wasn't going to make it, with this turbulence it was only becoming a futile struggle.

Snapping a console out from the wall, she activated the tiny video screen and checked the readouts flowing over the monitor. Slapping the intercom on she was greeted by the sight of a man struggling out of his bed, disheveled and still dressed in a pair of boxers and tank top.

"Cap'n, can you hear me!" her shout managed to get his attention as he crossed the small quarters and looked directly at her.

"Report, O'Neill!" he shouted.

"Some kind of compromise to the hull..." Giana O'Neill rattled off the information before forwarding it to his personal channel. "It's holding for now, but... Godsdamn, I'm glad you're alive-"

Something struck the cabin wall on the Captain's end, like thousands of tiny comets that exploded right through the hull and out the other-side without ever once slowing just once. The detonation of instruments and hissing air offered only a pause before the entire wall behind the man gave way.

Oxygen poured free and with the force of escaping atmosphere so did the Captain.

The boom and thunder knocked her backwards onto her own ass, horror consuming her face at what she had just seen.

Behind her one of the doors slide open and a body fell right over top of her prone form, thrashing for life against the disturbances.

"Why did I fall on you?" the man gasped and shudders. "What's going on!"

"He's dead," she breathed out in a whisper of pure terror. "Cap'n's dead, Croop! Lords of Kobol, I was looking right at him when..."

The deck took another violent dip and even if they hadn't intended to, the force of movement forced them up and against the wall.

"We have to move!" Croop thrust her forward and towards the stairs. "We have to know what's going on."

They stumbled up the access-way, watching their steps closely to avoid losing their grip on the staircase. Somehow they stumbled into the navigation bay, O'Neill tried not to pay attention to the fact that one of the three chairs inside the room was empty.

"1,550 millibars," Croop reported as he took his station at the engineering post, "dropping 20 millibars per minute. Frak, we're hemorrhaging air! Something took a swing at us."

"Two non-identified ships approaching on dradis," O'Neill shouted as she activated one of the on-wall screens. "No signatures... you think its pirates?"

"Definitely not the welcoming committee," he grumbled. "I'll get up to the flight deck and get us the hell out of here!"

"Sure," she shouted, quickly turning tail and racing down one of the myriad of corridors that intersected the command bay.

Up the service ladder, through a tight hall, she stumbled onto deck and threw herself into the control chair in the center of the room.

Another hit and they immediately began to swerve off course, panic risking in her stomach as the ship began to pitch and spine without her control.

"_We've been hit_!" Croop shouted over the intercomm. "_Cargo section five is breached! General alert_!"

More impacts, more far off booms as the ship began to roll and rock trying to shrug off the hits on their defenseless ship.

"We're losing control!" she shouted into the mic on the side of her seat. "We have to get out of here fast!"

Activating her controls, she searched the updated star charts and dradis screens, trying to as quickly as possible to find where they had ended up in the few minutes since they had come under attack.

"_Come on_," Croop prayed over speakers, "_lemme see those beautiful stars. Damn it! Where are we_!"

Slowly a bright green and dark blue world rotated into view, silhouette over there

"_Aerilon_... I think," she couldn't be certain, they were supposed to be on their way to _Aquaria_ on the other side of _Ragnar_. "We are way off course!"

Another impact, this time harder than anything they had taken before... forcing the planet below to start growing faster than she liked.

"I'm sending out a distress signal!" she shouted as they started to impact with the atmosphere at blinding speed.

"_This is commercial transport November declaring a state of emergency_," she could hear herself repeating over the loudspeakers as she tried to get a message out. "_We are six days out from Tauron and… communication array isn't transmitting. Must have taken a hit_."

A strong wind buffeted the ship and O'Neill had to fight to stay in her chair.

"You need to activate the emergency landing procedure!" she shouted.

"_Gear won't deploy_!" Croop yelled as a terrible grinding could be heard from the back of the ship. "_With the amount of damage along the aft hull we'll break up on re-entry_!"

"Then we'll have to skip the atmosphere," she declared. "Prepare all lateral thrusters to hit full burn."

She never knew if he had activated the system as they hit the atmosphere, communication antennae pylons disintegrating under the heat.

"They trained you for this, right?" Giana asked over the intercomm. "Croop? Croop?"

He didn't answer, his hands running down switches, fumbling over the leavers and activating the crash shuttles to prepare for the worse, sealing out the fiery burn of friction.

Reaching upward, he yanked the release lever above his head and waited for the explosive boom. Several hundred meters back the massive drive section of the freight unhinged itself from the rest of the ship. With nothing to keep it attached it rolled and disintegrated.

Without it's attachment to the rest of the craft, the force of the thrashing atmosphere wasted no time in shredding the assembly to bits.

But its detachment rocked them into an uncontrollable roll, pressing O'Neill back into her seat with a vigorous shake.

Reaching for another switch, the air brakes deploy, catching them and pulling them out of their uncontrolled descent with an even more furious thrust.

Yet it wasn't enough, their speed was too high and even if they cross the atmosphere in one piece, it was only going to get worse when they hit the ground.

Without pause, without hesitation, she reached to her left and smashed the protective glass covering over one particular red button, before depressing her fingers as hard as she could.

Below deck Croop was startled as the airlock doors to the crew compartment began to roll closed.

When he realized what was going on, he slammed his hand onto the intercomm.

"Croop?" she shouted. "What're you doing? Talk to me!"

"_We're too heavy_..." the man strained voice hissed through the loudspeakers, "_too much load back there._..."

* * *

"_Cylon formation ahead_," Boomer's voice crackled over the speakers inside the cockpit. "_We're down to six confirmed Cylons now. Approaching visual range._"

"Okay, Boomer we'll take it from here," Ripper ordered as he began to gear up his _Viper_. "Pull your _Raptor _back to a holding distance while we engage these fighters."

"_Understood_," the young woman, youngest in this squadron, acknowledged as the boxy, brown support ship broke back from formation with a thrust of its forward jets and quickly began to fall behind the advancing wing.

"All right, boys and girls," he said, switching channels to the rest of his fighters, twenty in all, "break into attack formation... there might be only six of them out there, but stay with your wingman and don't get overconfident."

Accepting his order, the twenty _Vipers _paired off into ten sets, each focusing on their partner.

"_Anybody know what these things look like_?" Olivia 'Plumber' Riker asked over the wireless.

"_The pictures I've seen of old Cylon fighters were sorta like a big flying wing_," Eric 'Rambler' Friday added his opinion.

"Those pictures are forty years old," Kira 'Widow' Diego let out a jovial laugh over the wireless, her _Viper _wings shaking from side to side in good humor.

"_Yeah_," Rambler joined back in, "_well how do we engage a fighter we've never seen before_?"

"_It doesn't matter what they look like, genius_," Widow laughed again, "_just shoot at whatever it is you see_."

"_Time for a little payback_," Derek 'Sorry' Backs' thick baritone boomed over the speakers.

"_I hear that_," Christian 'Boxer' Mann agreed.

"Okay, keep the chatter down!" Ripper admonished his pilots, trying to keep the banter to a minimum and keep the wireless waves open just in case.

"_CAG, Boomer_," the far off _Raptor_ inserted itself back into the conversation, even if they were a good distance beyond the battlefield. "_You should be in visual range. Do you see them_?"

He was almost going to answer no, but then his eyes caught the far off glint of something in the dark void of space. Eight shining silver wings broke out from the glare of the distant local stars.

The enemy had arrived...

"We see 'em," Ripper confirmed. "Don't think they've seen us, though. They're not taking evasive maneuvers."

"_Hey... there's no cockpits_!" Rambler was the first to notice that unlike those pictures they had all seen as children in the school room, these crafts were nothing like their predecessors. "_There's nobody flying these things_."

"_So they're just some drones?_" Boxer almost seemed disappointed that he would get to kill something today.

"I don't care what they are," Ripper interrupted anymore chances to discuss the approaching fighters. "We've got good targets. All _Vipers_... weapons free. Go get 'em."

The two squadrons continued their approached, accelerating faster and faster to the inevitable fight.

Then it happened, the forward hood of the foremost _Raider_ began to slide back to reveal the red pulsating visor that seemed to burn across the upper bulb of the craft, rolling from one wing tip to another. The oscillating beam of light seemed be mesmerizing, if an ominous feeling didn't start to rise in the pilot's stomach.

"They seem to be powering up some kind of device," Ripper commented, noting a wave of red seemed to be coasting over his surrounding _Vipers_. "Looks like jamming, are you getting anything Boomer?"

"_No dice, CAG,_" Sharon responded without pause. "_Whatever they're doing doesn't seem to be having any effect_."

"_No ECM or jamming going up_..." Helo added into the conversation. "_If they were going to attack they're flying in a little too bold for my taste._"

"What could they be-"

Ripper's comment on the situation fell in silence as his dradis screens suddenly exploded with icons, all racing towards their fighter wing.

"FRAK!" he shouted as he realized the incoming signatures were a wing of incoming missiles. "All fighters evasive, fire at will!"

The inbound ordinance scattered, internal tracking systems maneuvered the warheads after their targets as they left long streams of crisscrossing exhaust in their wake.

Training kicked in and the _Vipers_ threw themselves into a maze of directions, kicking in the afterburners and spinning their ships like dolphins in the ocean. With bigger engines and better reflexes, the first dozen missiles roared right through the gaps in their lines and just kept going without pause.

Others went after their prey but couldn't keep up, either losing speed and detonating prematurely or being caught in the return fire of their targets.

Six found their targets, six _Vipers_ exploded and six pilots disappeared into nothing.

"_Widows down_!" someone screamed over the wireless.

"_Jolly, come in_!" another pilot shouted in the darkness. "_I've lost Jolly!_"

"Everyone stay together!" Ripper screamed into his helmet mic. "Boxer you have a bogey on your tail!"

The pilot quickly understood, spinning his fighter end over end and opened fire. The tailing _Raider_ exploded violently, debris raining over Boxer's as he hit the thrusters and rocketed into the cloud of cooling smoking and burning refuse.

Sorry rolled his _Viper _into the fray, opening fire and managing to graze one of the enemy fighter. The craft was disoriented enough that Rambler managed to

Observing from a distance, the drifting _Raptor _kept a close watch on the battle as it played out. _Vipers_ and _Raiders_ scattered and rolled through each other's paths, weapon's fire filled the darkness of space and occasionally a muffled explosion signaled either the death of either a fellow pilot or some obscure Cylon.

"They're not faring to well," Boomer commented as their dradis confirmed another one of their _Vipers_ had gone down in flames.

Eight _Vipers_ down from the original _twenty_, three _Raiders_ of the original eight.

The Colonials may have had the superior numbers but the Cylons were quickly out pacing them.

"Uh... Boomer...?" Sharon's ears perked at the words of her ECO, looking up she quickly understood what was causing his concern.

A _Raider_ had broken from the fight and was rapidly accelerating towards them.

"Right," she knew they didn't have much time before this defenseless ship was under fire. "This is Boomer. We've got a bogey coming after us. Breaking and retreating..."

* * *

"You mean our _'load'_ of passengers?" the engineer shouted.

He tried to be concern, to show some mercy to the five hundred passengers below deck... but if it meant save one life out of all those instead of them all just perishing in vain, she was going to do what she thought was right.

"_So what_," his voice was haggard and strained. "_We should both go down too? Out of sheer frakking nobility? We crash light or we crash hard!_"

Tortured silenced met her and without a beat, she slammed her hand down on the button and moved onto the next in the row.

Behind them one of the cylinder shaped compartments of the ship broke free, quickly rolling away from the superstructure of the vessel before the grip of the atmosphere overpowered it. The thin hull shattered under the pressure, so forceful the fifty-plus passengers onboard never knew what had happened.

"Croop!" O'Neill tried to plead with him. "Corporate said we're responsible for every one of those-"

"_Corporation's not here, is it_?" Croop countered.

"When captain died, we stepped up..." he shouted. "Whether you like it or not. Now they train you for this, so-"

"_And if we're going to make this burn we have to be lighter_!" the pilot countered. "_That's how they train you! On a frakking simulator_!"

"Don't touch that switch!" she yelled, but already she felt the jolt of another compartment being severed off... another fifty lives disappearing.

"_I'm not dying for them_," he whispered over the speakers.

He reached up, hand coming down on the next button in the series... but this time nothing happened.

He pushed it again, for good measure but again no reaction.

It dawned on her in an instant what was causing the system safeties to lock her out.

"_O'Neill_!" he shouted, activating a camera feed to the navigation bay to see him wedging a steel pipe in between the blast doors.

"70-seconds!" she shouted up towards the camera. "You still got 70-seconds to level this frakker out!"

Seething anger and guilt, he furiously struck another one of the air-brakes, hoping they could offer them some reprieve from the crushing speed. The atmosphere pounded against the crash shield, grinding against his ears as he fought for some control of the speeding behemoth.

He slammed another one of the air-brakes into position, but the force of the friction was too harsh and it snapped right off, pin wheeling right into the crash-shield. It sheared the two inch thick steel, sending spider webs of cracks across the windshield.

"What the hell was that?" O'Neill shouted over the intercomm.

He didn't have any time. Working fast she yanked another lever and another, sections of the hull sudden umbrella outward to create a wind shear drag.

Meters were bleeding off too fast, if they were going to make this then they'd have to lose the most critical weight.

Reaching upward she clicked three levers on the above head flight station, one green, one yellow… the final one red.

"_Disengaging primary flight module_," a mechanized voice declared. "_Do you wish to continue_?"

Without hesitation, without worry, he grabbed the lever by his chair and pulled as hard as he could.

He braced herself, expecting the worse as the entire forward section of the ship broke away, much lighter and without the same level of force behind it as the rest of the ship it rocketed away from the hull.

His chair shifted violently as the force sent his craft tumbling away, somehow the straps kept his in place.

"_Croop_!" a voice sounded over the radio, a little more distant then it had been before. "_Croop what did you do?_!"

"Ship wasn't too heavy," he breathed, "I was."

Without the flight section the rest of the ship was unburdened by the weight of the main sensor array, several heavy-tonnage cargo bays and massive communication array… critical systems but weighing her down.

He watched from a dwindling distance as the stricken craft, now lighter, began to rise out of the atmosphere as its own flight across the atmosphere began to arch upward, the planetary gravity wasn't strong enough to drag down something so light and moving so fast.

Something struck the side of the flight deck and tore a gaping crack through the cabin. One moment she was sitting there, a second later he was fighting the howling scream of wind and dust as the entire port side of the ship peeled away.

He only managed a surprised gasp before the entire flight module imploded from explosive decompression…

* * *

The jeep crunched over the gravel road, the act of its breaks causing a wave of stones to splash up around it like water in the ocean. From the driver's cabin Sue-Shaun disembarked with a haggard looking man, tossing a very large bag across to Sam who was standing on the side of the parking lot.

"This is all we managed to get," she declared as she joined her team captain, the older man staying a step behind her, as she pulled the trap of her vehicle away for him to see the supplies they had pillaged.

"Doesn't seem like a lot," Sam couldn't try to notice the dark look from the man behind Sue-Shaun, causing him to quickly cover his mistake. "But it's a lot better than we could do."

Sighing he moved away as several of his players started to unload the truck, Sue-Shaun following him as he stalked a short distance away.

"How much did you manage to get?" he uttered to his friend in a hush whispered, fearing what his answer could be.

"A few rifles, some handguns…" Sue-Shaun rattled off as she ticked the ends of her fingers as she counted, "…some grenades-"

"Who the frak needs grenades in the mountains?" Anders voice rose in volume and he was quick to correct himself as a few heads turned in their direction.

"Farmers knew of a few supply caches leftover from the last war," she explained. "Soldiers used to use them when they were clearing the Centurions out forty-years ago. Thankfully no one's cleared them out so we made out pretty well."

"Great but we could sure use some support out here," Sam mused out loud, stroking his chin. "Were not soldiers. Where are the police? We need some law enforcement up here? Maybe if we manage to nab a few more trucks we can ride the road down to Tora… what?"

He suddenly noticed the uncomfortable stare that Sue-Shaun was shooting him.

"Cylons hit Tora," she revealed. "The entire village is gone."

"How… I mean…" he stammered over his words, trying to wonder why anyone would destroy the sleepy mountain village known for its jams and wood working.

"Farmer I was with…" Sue-Shaun asserted with a nod towards the man she had been riding with, "says his house looks out over the valley where Tora is… says the valley is on fire now and he can't raise anyone in town."

"Then we are completely on our own," Sam bitterly put forth.

Turning back towards his assembled group, mostly a motley crew of Pyramid players still dressed in their workout jerseys, a few mountain men and a few farmers from the surrounding homesteads, Sam had to wonder if this was all a good idea. They weren't trained, they were barely equipped, this all just seemed like a bad idea.

But something inside of him told Sam he had to step up.

"Okay," Sam voiced towards his comrades. "We've all seen the Centurions gathering the body parts of other Centurions when they get destroyed, right? You've seen them take them to those weird containers they dropped. Probably repair sheds where they patch up everything we do to them. Does anybody remember that old war movie '_The Tauron Line_'… what they did?"

"Those were the bad guys?" Barolay looked at him with a weird glare.

"Doesn't matter," Anders shook his head at her. "We can still make this thing work."

"Some of our friends brought us some pretty fine things that go boom," Sue-Shaun nodded to the crates they had loaded into the back of the truth. "We're gonna use them right?"

"Right," Sam nodded at her idea. "We can take a Centurion or something and rig it to blow. They take it back to the shop… it blows up inside, no more shop."

"That sounds dangerous," Hillard wondered out loud.

"Well, yeah, it is dangerous," Sam announced in an attempt to convince them, "but after today maybe breathing's even dangerous. Look, there's a really strong possibility that we're all gonna die here. So I say it comes down to how we're gonna die."

"Well, how do we get a Centurion body part?" Coach asked from the back of the grouping.

Snatching up the bag that Sue-Shaun had tossed him earlier and from the worn leather satchel he extracted the entire crutch of his plan.

"What the hell is that?" Wheeler asked at the object being presented to them.

"It's a thigh," Sam declared, holding the broken, oil splattered piece of chrome up for everyone to get a good look at, point out the various parts and workings. "This turns it around... this is where it attaches to the body… and this is what we are going to use against the Cylons…"

* * *

Lying back into the copilot seat, Laura enjoyed the cool fabric against her skin, against the straining in her back muscles for standing for so many hours below deck.

Her exhaustion however met anything to the sudden beeping that filled the cockpit.

"What is it?" she asked at the sudden interruption.

"Never seen a signal on that bandwidth before," Apollo commented over the Captain's shoulder.

"That's an governmental emergency channel," Russo commented from his own personal knowledge. "It's reserved for the President and his cabinet."

Hitting a button, they listened for a second as the static gave way to incomprehensible words before finally something they could understand came in over the airwaves.

".._.tinuity of Government Act. All ministers, department secretaries, and division heads now go to Case Orange. Repeat. This is an official notification broadcast as per section 35, article 17 of the Emergency Continuity of Government Act. All ministers, department secretaries..."_

"It's an automated message," both men looked to their left and suddenly noticed the color had drained from Laura's face. "It's designed to be sent out in case the... in case the President, the Vice-President, and most of the Quorum are dead or incapacitated."

They were all quiet, understanding what she had just said was implying.

"I need you to..." she forced the words out at just a whisper. "I need you to send my ID code on the exact same frequency. '_D_' as in dog, dash, 456, dash, 345, dash, '_A_' as in apple."

"Yes, ma'am," Russo nodded but before he could even begin, Laura was up and rushing out of the cockpit.

Lee didn't wait, he knew she was in a right state after she had dropped the fact the government was probably all dead, all the people she had worked with. Following her back and into the now empty first-class cabin.

He found Laura in a seat by one of the windows, staring out at the star-field beyond.

"How far down..." he had to ask, he knew she wasn't taking the fact that so many people she knew were dead.

"I'm thirty-third in line of succession," she said after a long beat. "I know all thirty-two ahead of me. Most of us served in his first administration... some came with him from the mayor's office... I was there on his first campaign. Never really liked politics. Kept telling myself I was getting out after his first term. But he had a way about him... you just couldn't say no to him."

For a long moment Laura was quiet, just kept staring out the window.

"Vice President Leipziger was an ass…" she flashed a bitter smile as she reminisced. "Always got handesy at parties… Janette… she's the Secretary of Intelligence… she just had her first kid… Secretary Montoya was going retire so he could spend more time with his artwork… Representative Robbins of _Aerilon_ always had the funniest jokes…Gods, everyone from the President to the Quorum to the Secretary of Housing is possibly dead and I could probably be the next Commander in Chief of the Twelve Colonies. How incredibly stupid is that?"

"I'm sure everything is going to be-"

Lee's words died in his throat as he noticed Captain Russo had entered the cabin.

Without words, without eye contact, he handed over a single printout.

Laura took it reluctantly... staring at its words before carefully folding it and sliding it into her coat pocket.

"We'll need a priest..." she whispered, "for the swearing in ceremony..."

* * *

Admiral Edward Nagala held tight to the Information Tactical Table as another nuke made it pass the flak field the _Battlestar Atlantia_ and its escorts, the _Defenders Redoubtable_ and _Achilles_, and proved that no matter how much they kept their guns firing it couldn't keep everything the Cylon's threw at them out.

"What I would give to have one of the new _Warriorstars_," he muttered to himself, knowing full well that the _Gemenon Fleet Hub_ had been among the first places the Cylons had nuked.

Now the three unfinished ships that were going to be the next beasts of war for the Colonies were floating scrap metal.

Talk about throwing taxpayer dollars out the airlock.

He had already lost the _Battlestars_ _Pacifica_, _Majestic_, _Zeus_, _Leviathan, Triton, Solaria, Columbia, Exeter_ and _Goliath_, nine fine ships in exchange for eighteen Cylon _Basestars_ hardly seemed like a worthy victory and now he only had five of the mightiest ships in the Twelve Colonies and a few _Defenders_ left, besides his own ship.

"Redirect secondary batteries twelve and thirteen for forward fire," he shouted over the alert klaxons. "Keep our ventral side to the enemy and prep another wave of missiles!"

"Yes, sir!" confirmed Colonel Lance Sheppard. "Keep our bow 45-degrees down and starboard side rotated down 10-degrees."

_Atlantia_ responded, the massive _Battlestar_ tilting itself into the fray, giving its gun batteries a better vantage of fire.

"Tell the Atlas to come about," the Admiral shouted, regarding the dradis screens that dominated the ceiling of the CIC, icons of all designations flying across his monitors. "They're drifting out of alignment and frakking with our entire front line!"

That was _Atlantia's_ role in the fleet, the reason it was Nagala's command. She was one of only four of the massive _Nebula_-class _Battlestars_ in the entire Colonial Navy and reserved exclusively for Fleet Admirals as the perfect command warship. Over 2,100-meters in length, a full half longer then a _Colombia_-class _Battlestar_, she was a massive craft and meant to be a heavy hitter, able to take on multiple capital ships at the same time while coordinating an entire armada and carry three entire regiments of marines into any combat situation.

But since the battle had started several hours ago, the armada had been whittled down, the heavy hitter batteries were starting to run dry and most of her marines were deployed planet-side to _Virgon_ to help with rescue and military efforts.

Nagala stared up at the dradis screens, trying to decrypt the puzzling realm of icons, numbers and details.

The _Battlestars_ _Defiant_ and _Atlas_ were currently flanking the remaining eight _Basestars_, the _Atlantia_ and the other four remaining _Defenders Ceto, Gyes, Elpis _and _Argus_ provided forward flak fire while the _Adelphi_,_ Agamemnon_ and _Mobeus_ pressed in an offensive spear head to split the enemy fleet. If his plan worked then it would mean three of the _Basestars_ would be caught at point blank range of the nuclear missiles the three _Battlestars_ carried.

Between the behemoths swarms of _Vipers_ raced back and forth, dancing and spinning across the battlefield as they defended their motherships.

The Mark VII was the front-line variant of the _Viper_ design, retaining the general layout of the Mark II's but adding a fully integrated avionics system that gave the fighter the tactical edge in battle management and flight information for the pilot. The cockpit was almost totally computerize, few analog gauges and more reliance was placed on the sophisticated central flight computers. That gave the VII pilots far greater control over the fighter and targeting control in a dogfight.

Able to complete a 180-degree turn in less than .35 seconds and three mounted kinetic energy weapons the _Viper_ Mark VII was the pinnacle of the Colonial space superiority fighter.

And right now they were becoming just another class of rapidly thinning Colonial ships.

Nagala watched as one squadron rushed a group of _Raiders_ trying to flank the _Ceto, _like piranhas they overtook the gaggle of Cylons and made quick work of the crafts.

_Finally something seemed to be going our way, _Nagala thought to himself_._

The plan almost seemed to be working... that is until the _Adelphi_ took a kamikaze _Raider_ to its dorsal engine and the entire stern of the _Mercury-_class ship exploded like a firecracker on Colonial Day. The explosion knocked the forward bow of the _Battlestar_ down and right into the upper mid-section of the _Mobeus_, taking the _Colombia _styled ship out in a massive fire ball. The _Agamemnon_'s commander knew his ship was going to be scrap metal in minutes without the overlapping fields of fire provided by its now destroyed companions and it quickly began to peel off as the Cylons opened up with renew vigor.

"We can't keep this up much longer without suffering explosive decompression down the entire port flight-pod," Sheppard yelled as he held tight to the other side of the Information Tactical Table. "Damage crews are already on the horn saying they can hold her together but another direct hit and you can kiss haft the ship goodbye."

"Have our _Vipers_ cycle back and provide cover," Nagala ordered trying to make sense of the mess on the dradis screens. "I want to merge the remaining elements of the fleet and dive right into the heart of the Cylon force. With close quarter contact like that they won't try using nuclear weapons as readily."

"Admiral the _Agamemnon_ is reporting she's taking critical damage and the _Atlas_ is already missing an entire flight-pod. We are not going to be much of a fight any longer," Lieutenant Cynthia Bellamy and tactical officer announced over the condition one klaxons.

"Stow it!" Nagala silenced the attempt by his senior officers to force a retreat out of him. "We're the only thing standing between this fleet and _Virgon_. If we pull out now what is going to stop them from opening up with every nuke they have left on the civilians' planet-side? We stay and we fight, to buy them more time to escape and our remaining ships to regroup."

A resounding "Understood Sir," echoed through the CIC as both officers turned back to carry out their orders.

"Bring the bow around and form us up with the other ships," Edward ordered. "Tell them were taking the fight to the frakkers."

"Bow about forty seven degrees, engines to full," Sheppard continued on with the orders. "Get on the horn and tell our _Vipers_ to follow us in…"

* * *

"..._preliminary reports indicate a thermo-nuclear device in the fifty-megaton range_..."

Adama's voice echoed through the ship, grim and stoic. On the flight-deck Kara froze in her checklist beside her Viper, still in its trundle, to list to the Old Mans words.

"_...was detonated over Caprica City approximately several hours ago_."

Everyone stopped moving on the deck, work ceased as the news sunk in.

"..._There's no report on casualties, but obviously... they will be high..._."

Everyone was quiet; no one could make a sound as the realization fell in on them.

"How many people in Caprica City?" a deckhand, Cally was her name if Kara remembered correctly, asked to no one in particular.

"Seven million," Kara answered, even if her eyes never looked up to see the deck-hand's reaction.

"_Mourn the dead later. Right now, the most important thing you can do is get this ship into the fight._.."

Up in the CIC, Adama slammed the phone back into its cradle, waiting just a second before he glared up at the officers on duty who were all staring at him, waiting for some bit of information or hint of how to react.

A beat later the CIC was a hive of activity.

Trying to keep themselves busy the crew set to work, finding what they could to preoccupy their worried minds.

"What's the latest?" Lieutenant Gaeta asked Dualla, trying to keep his voice hushed as he shot a worried glance at the haggard Commander leaning over his station.

"A lot of confusion," the specialist paged through another stack of reports, newly printed she had to be careful not smear the ink. "I keep seeing these weird reports about... equipment malfunctions."

"Why's that weird?" he was confused.

Their fleet was being sacked, their homeworlds were being bombed, friends and families dying by the billions... he expected the reports to be grim and slanted against them.

"It's the number of the malfunctions among the enemy units," Dee handed over what she was reading as proof to him. "One report said an entire _Basestar_ lost power just before it came into contact with our forces. They said it was like... someone just turned off a switch."

"That's really weird," he paged through the reports, his eyes glazing over the smaller details and instead focusing on personnel losses, on ships destroyed, on enemy movements. He was looking for something and not seeing it. "Have you... heard anything about the _Battlestar Vesta_?"

"It's a jumble out there," she knew what he was asking and she fumbled to answer his question. "A lot of ships are not reporting, some are out of range, a few-"

"Dee, please," his voice jumped an octave and when a few officers shot him a look he quickly quieted himself. "Has the_ Battlestar Vesta_ been destroyed?"

"_Vesta_..." she paused, "hasn't made any reports since the first attack. But she hasn't been confirmed destroyed."

"Thanks you," he offered her a weak smile and turned to head back to his post.

"Felix," Dualla called after him, causing him to stop in his tracks, "he's alright. Just keep thinking that..."

* * *

The _Raptor_ twisted into another turn, even in the emptiness of space they cut a jagged course through the void as they tried desperately tried to break off the pursuing enemy.

Frantically working the controls, Sharon throttled the ship to port, the stars across the viewport streaked like a thousand tiny comets.

"Two missiles incoming!" Helo shouted, feeling his lunch again fight against the constraints of his throat.

"Jam the warheads!" the pilot shot back to her ECO, even as again she yanked her controls to starboard this time.

"Trying..." he shouted, programming his jamming equipment as fast as he could, "but I can't find their frequency... better drop a swallow."

The swallow was their decoy drones, best used to confuse and pull guided missiles off-course. Most _Raptors_ only carried four units but being as they were supposed to be heading back to _Caprica_ for reassignment; their compliment was cut in half.

"We've only got two left..." Boomer protested but as her dradis screen showed the missiles closing the distance with them quicker and quicker she knew such complaints would be a waste if they were stray particles of cool debris.

A swallow detached from under one of the wings of the _Raptor_, a small boxy shape the quickly separate and splayed off in the opposing direction.

The reaction was instant; both missiles took the bait and raced after the retreating swallow, getting a good distance away before the group collided.

"Dammit," Sharon screamed as the shock-wave slammed into _Raptor_, rocketing them about in numerous directions. "You alive?"

"Yeah," Helo croaked from the back of the _Raptor_, however the beeping on his station cut him off. "Uh, oh... check the screen ahead."

Looking down Sharon immediately knew what Agathon had seen. While being pursued the screen before them was quickly being crowded out by more and more contacts.

"I guess we found the main fight," Sharon breathed out.

Before her cockpit windows three _Battlestars_ slugged it out with five _Basestars_, ordinance bursting forth and _Vipers_ rolling in all directions.

As they watched a _Mercury_-class _Battlestar_ took a hit astern, a portion of its port flight-pod exploded into bits and the wide airless environment of the hangar deck vented to space. Sharon tried not to pay attention to the fact that hundreds of flight personnel had probably just died in the icy grip.

Two _Brezerker_-class _Troopstars _provided additional fire power. Though meant for minimal engagement as most battle-groups would have prefer the similarly sized but much more heavily armed _Defenders_, the military transport ships were being pressed into service to protect the heavily damaged _Battlestar_.

"Missile lock!" Helo shouted as the proximity alarms shrieked.

Without pause or further encouragement Boomer dropped her last swallow. Twisting the joystick she narrowly avoided the incoming fire as it took the bait and raced after it.

The resulting explosion rocketed the _Raptor_, sending it spiraling off-course and through the incoming battlefield. Inside the cockpit systems exploded and circuitry sparked and popped as the pressure wave knocked the craft about.

"Okay... Okay... We're still here," she steadied the _Raptor_ before amping up the thrusters and turning back to check on her copilot.. until she notice he was hunched over holding a hand on a bloody gash on his knee. "Helo? Hey! You okay?"

Something cracked in the back cabin, a shout and howling groan were muffled inside Boomer's helmet but still she heard it.

"Present..." he moaned, groggy but still alive.

"Stay with me..." she coached him, trying to pilot the vessel and keep them out of the fight. "We've gotta fuel leak... we're gonna have to put down to repair it..."

Keeping her attention on flight controls, she kept her distance from the battle, trying not to think as one of the _Brezerker_-class _Troopstar_ rammed one of the offending _Basestars_, taking both crafts out in a blaze of glory.

"Lotta company between us and home," Helo groaned from the back of the cabin. "What about our _Vipers_?"

Checking her dradis Sharon couldn't see their squadron any longer, just the two _Raiders_ breaking off to join the melee.

"They're too far out and our fuel is too low to go look," she breathed hard, trying to even out here thoughts and get them to safety. "They're on their own."

Thinking for just a second, she waited only a beat before snatching the central power system lever and yanking it off. The _Raptor_ lurched for a moment before it went dark, the inertia carrying the craft onward and passed the battle that played out like a morbid exuberance.

"So we coast?" Helo asked, slowly rising up and floating towards the flight control station.

"Best way to avoid attracting attention. No power signature, go in a straight line... unless somebody gets close enough to actually see us, we'll look like a chunk of debris on sensors. I think we have enough inertia to make it to_ Caprica's_ ionosphere, then we'll power up and find a place to land."

"Nice... nice thinking there," the man commented in a groan. "I think we can officially stop calling you a Rook now, Lieutenant."

The sudden praise caught her off-guard, causing her to grin and turn back at him... until she noticed the free floating blood that was slowly filling the cabin.

"Just hang on Helo..."

* * *

He hit the ground running, morning grass kissed in melting frost crunching under his feet, cold air assaulted his exposed face and the wind whipped at his scarf.

If it weren't for the bullets splashing the lawn behind him it would almost seem to be a beautiful pre-winter memory.

Darren ducked to the side, bullets catching the ground where he had just been. The cargo container was strong enough to take the impacts, even if the metal hitting metal was deafening.

Why had he left the safety of his dorm room and tried to make it to nearby tram station in Brooksheir? The priests warned them to stay inside but like any teenager with half a brain and a body full of hormones they didn't need to be told what to do.

Six bodies of six former students, only Darren had managed to get through parking garage with only a few bruises and a deep gash on his knee from a sudden fall over his roommate... or his roommate's corpse.

"Frak... frak... frak!" he muttered under his breath as he pressed himself as deep as possible into cargo container.

It was suppose to be simple. The Cylons were bombing all the major cities with nuclear missiles; their university was dead center of Brooksheir. Even with the priests urging them to stay in their rooms it didn't take a genius to know it was just a matter of time before a nuke came down on their heads.

Get to the tram station, rumor had it the Colonial military was evacuating people to Oasis. A thirty minute run to the station, two hours of the tram, they could be out of the killing zone in barely half a day.

Too bad that rumor turned out to half true. The military were evacuating people to Oasis... though the last tram had left an hour before... just in time for a Cylon force to wipe out the marine squad ordered to hold the station.

A blast of cold air sent a shiver down his spin. He had been stupid enough to think his running jacket would keep him warm, even with winter just around the corner. Sweat on the back of neck only helped to worsen the matter as he gasped for breath.

He couldn't stay, he couldn't hide.

The sound of clanking motors made the fear ebb in Darren's head, threatening to make the pulsing organ burst from his chest.

His muscles screamed, his lungs hurt and his head spun but still he vaulted forward, his legs carrying him as fast as he could.

Glass doors slide open as the automatic pressure pad responded to his weight and the cold air disappeared as warm heat rolled over his shivering body.

"_Welcome to 2nd St. Station_," a prerecorded and annoyingly pleasant voice echoed, "_serving greater Brooksheir and beyond for the last seven decades_."

He could care less as he rushed over the empty check-in floor, stumbling over fallen luggage and discarded trash.

_Just make it to the departure terminal_, he thought, _get on the first thing you can._

It was an irrational idea, what could be left by now?

Even then he was a history student, not a engineer. How was he going to get a tarmac to even work if there was one? But it was hormones, adrenaline and teenage arrogance that kept his mind working.

It had kept him alive... so far.

Down the hallway, past empty shops and overturned trolley carts. The automatic glass doors again parted to allow him entrance onto the platform, the cold air again assaulting his face.

Then Darren's life changed forever.

So set on his escape route and so close he only noticed the Centurion when it opened fire.

Thank the Gods his sudden arrival had been enough to catch the lone robot off guard, buying him a few precious seconds to drop, roll and throw himself tightly against one of the waiting benches that dominated the platform of the station.

The ground crack hard against the side of his head, sending colors spinning and his sight blurring as the wind was forced from his lungs as he threw himself behind the piece of wood. Bullets harmlessly chipped away at the furniture's exterior and though it held it wasn't as sturdy as the steel of the cargo container he just had.

His secure shelter quickly faded.

_Should have staying in my room, _he frantically reverie, _should have just hidden under my bed!_

A chrome foot hit the ground in front of his hiding spot and blinking back to reality he could only stare in terror as the machine towered above him.

The Centurion's arm cannon clicked in place and for a moment Darren could see his life flash before his eyes... a short, boring montage of random images that made no sense. He was more concerned with the growing puddle of warm liquid in his trousers.

But as he prepared himself for imminent demise something interrupted his utter terror.

A howl, so eerie it echoed through him. Dread now turned to confusion as the sound of some far off wolf rang through the tram station.

_Great, I'm going insane before I die,_ he thought to himself.

No, the Cylon noticed it too. It's red pulsing eye turned up towards the ceiling where two heavy thuds signaled that something heavy had just landed a top the roof. Plaster tiles that coated the dome like inner structure broke away under the force of something very heavy and very loud crunching across the other side.

It didn't take an idiot to guess something alive had landed, the heavy footfall pounding across the surface.

Obviously not a Cylon of any kind because barely a breath later the Centurion turned its arm cannon towards the ceiling and opened fire.

Bullets slammed into the plaster, Darran pushed himself further into the floor as his hands clapped over his ears to keep the echoing sound, it hurt to just listen too.

A long second after there was quiet, nothing moved as the Cylon scanned the decimated ceiling for any signs of the interloper.

And then slowly it turned back to Darren and the fear began to rise in him once again... until a roar and a flash of black fur slammed into the machine.

In more shock then anything the young boy could only watched astonished as a towering wolf barreled head first into the Centurion, throwing its full weight into it as the beast carried itself and the very heavy drone across the carpet of the terminal.

As he watched the animal's muscular arms shot forward and actually punched right through the Centurion's red glowing eye, obviously the weakest part of the machine's design. Long obsidian talons pulled back sparking wires and a sticky solution of hydraulic fluid as cobalt blue eyes regarded the prize in its hand.

Then like a warrior declaring victory it pointed it snout to the sky and let loss a bellowing roar of power.

Whatever this monster was it had torn a Centurion into piece in seconds and Darren was not about to stick around to see what it could do to human flesh.

But as he turned about to make a quick, quiet and unseen exit he found himself running right into the muscled chest of another one of the wolves.

* * *

"Admiral!" communications and Petty Officer 2nd Class Darrin Mason called out from his station on the far side of the CIC, "I have something strange on the general frequencies, message is in the clear and transmitting on all channels."

"Put it on speakers," Nagala allowed.

" …_Admiral Vonaka Volaska_," a deep and alien like voice sounded through the room, causing a few officers to freeze in place, "c_ommander of the 95SpinwardαǼ Space Guard Fleet, military brigadier force of the Hegemony of Sentient World… ordering the Cylons Imperium to stand down from their attacks on the Twelve Colonies immediately or face retaliation… we will respond in force. If you do not cease your attack in the next five minutes we will act_…

"What the frak is the Hegemony of Sentient things," Lance asked as he met eyes with Nagala.

"I have no idea," Edward conceded, "but I know for sure there is no Admiral Volaska in the Colonial Fleet."

"Message is repeating on all high and low bands," Darrin continued to explain, "several transmitting in different dialects of Colonial."

"Sir! One of the _Basestars_ has jumped out," Cynthia shouted, "seven remain!"

"Looks like the Cylons have responded to the threat from Volaska," Sheppard observed. "Concentrate all fire on the forward _Basestar_, have the other _Battlestars_ to take their targets and fire at will."

"Admiral another message is coming through from Admiral Volaska," Mason barked again. "I've cleaned it up from the last."

"_Cylon nation, you have chosen to take violent action against our forces and continue your assault on the Colonial worlds_," Vonaka's voice sounded as if it was swimming in controlled rage. _"Military action has been deemed necessary to remove your fleet elements from this space and we will use that to the fullest of our power. If you wish to retreat or surrender during these actions you will not be harmed and allowed to leave peacefully. If you wish to fight, I only have one warning, death will be swift. 95SpinwardαǼ commence combat jump_!"

The CIC was eerily quiet.

"What the frak is that all about?" Nagala said as the only voice in the silent room.

"Sir!" Bellamy bellowed, "Unknown contact has jumped onto the battlefield... Cylon side."

"Looks like the toasters brought in some reinforcements," Lance privately said to Nagala.

"Gods help us," he countered as his eyes were glued to the dradis screens above the Information Tactical Table.

"Sir, I don't think whatever jumped in was on the Cylon's side," Cynthia interrupted their staring. "Their _Basestars_ are spreading out as if to engage the contact."

Sheppard had to ask the obvious, "You don't think that Volaska was telling the truth?"

"Sir, I can confirm that the new contact does not match any known Cylon design," Lieutenant Bellamy verified. "Energy emissions are almost off the board."

* * *

Another distant boom, another cloud rose into the sky.

"That's six," Helo mumbled, lying on the wing of the Raptor, trying again not to itch at the bandage he had wrapped around his knee.

Around them the airstrip was empty, long since abandoned before this war ever started. They had been lucky to have found it untouched, over a decade gone from any type of duty the Cylons had overlooked the field of overlapping tarmacs and empty buildings.

From below the wing, Boomer cursed again as she worked on the engine mounting.

Sharon cast a glance west of their ship, noting yet another mushroom cloud had joined the other fix dissipating in the wind.

"How you coming on that fuel line?" He looked down over the wing, noticed the grease smeared woman trying valiantly to remove the shrapnel from the wing.

"Almost there," she said, tossing out another handful of melted metal from relay. "We'll be airborne pretty soon."

"Good," Agathon nodded in acceptance, again forcing to pull his hand away from his painful wound. "Gotta get back in the fight."

She threw herself back into her work, bypassing the damaged system and more then happy when the check system blinked green from angry red.

"Sharon..." Helo's concern and fright caused her to scramble out from under the wing. "Get your sidearm."

Twisting up and drawing her weapon she expected incoming fire, a force of some kind coming to tear them to shreds... but instead it was a mob, a group of fifty terrified people crested the distant hills.

Some were half-dressed, some carried luggage in their arms, one woman even clutched a violin in her hands.

Something far worse than the enemy was coming.

Terrified civilians...

* * *

Reality raced back to her, like a screaming white poker drove deep into her mind and for an instant everything was crystal clear.

Then it hurt like a mother frakker.

Pushing herself up and through the muck of the fluid, sweet oxygen touched her lips and violently her lungs sucked it in.

"It's alright," a voice soothed her as a hand ran through her hair, trying to calm her for a second as she fought for life. "You are among friends."

"Where... where..." her mind tried to make sense of all that was running through her mind, her memories. "I was in a spaceport terminal."

"But you're not on _Caprica_ any longer," Three cooed, sloshing off the cream of the Resurrection unit. "You're back with us. You've been reborn."

"I died," she whispered, trying to come to terms with what had happened mere hours ago. "I died."

"That's right," Three helped her up, making sure to watch the woman's fragile nature as she stood on her new legs for the first time. "You were in a city. It was destroyed. A nuclear blast. But that is all over now. You have been downloaded into a new body, Six."

"Gaius," she whispered, desperately grabbing the fellow woman by the shoulder. "Gaius was there."

"Gaius Baltar?" the Three worked the name over her tongue, not quiet understanding who this individual was, and his importance.

"Yes," her grip tightened on the Three's. "Is he alive? Is he?"

"Six," the warning tone of Three used was not lost on troubled Six. "Would it trouble you if Doctor Baltar were dead?"

Even if she was so frazzled and confused she understood that she was starting to stumble into forbidden territory. Humans were cattle to be led to the slaughter... not to show feelings toward.

"It would be unfortunate if he died," she covered her tracks quickly. "He was so helpful."

"Very helpful," Three acknowledged with a nod but the grim look on her face said otherwise. "But your mission wasn't a resounding success. The Colonial Defenses are more resilient then we thought. Even without our most optimistic projections we'll have to work had to eliminate the humans."

"But the codes..." Six gaped at her. "The backdoor programs-"

"Failed... immensely," the Cylon announced as she handed over a cool robe for Six to slip on. "We don't know why but it seems the Colonial systems are unaffected and we have already lost dozens of _Basestars_ in the opening wave. I know we usually require several days before a new body is returned to duty but we need all hands at their stations."

"Yes, of course," she nodded grimly.

Noticing the pile of clothes lying nearby the new reborn Six quickly threw on a cream blouse and pair of pants before being ushered out and into the halls of the _Basestar_.

While usually most _Basestars_ carried a light compliment and were more crewed by the Centurions and automated by the hybrid, this was one of the few who had been upgraded at considerable cost to include a resurrection bank.

Though a _Resurrection Ship_ could take on thousands of Cylons, sometimes the lead command ships required personnel to be able to board without transport even in the thick of battle or so far out where a _Resurrection Ship_ would be a waste.

Out in the halls the ship was critically over-crewed, it made her wonder what had happened to the _Resurrection Ship_ assigned to _Caprica_ if they had taken on so many.

In no short order they arrived in the heart of the warship, orders flying through the air as Centurions manned whatever stations were not already overcrowded with concerned eyes and concerned faces.

"Status!" Three shouted, obviously the command was hers.

"Units Seven, Eleven and Twelve are advancing," a dark haired Six announced. "Units Eight, Ten, Thirteen and Five are no longer responding."

"Keep our backs to the enemy," the tall Cylon reported. "Six, man the dradis console."

Not bothering to argue she manned her post, relieving the Centurion that had held it originally and quickly immersing her hands within the cool information liquid.

Sweeping the dradis bands it didn't take long to find the Cylon channels were flooded with reports, hybrids desperately reading off information as the occasional Cylon commander added their words.

"_Basestar Alpha 994 is down_!" a faraway Eight announced.

"_Secondary Raider squadrons no effect_!" a One shouted as explosions roared in the background. "_Unidentified vessels are continuing to hammer our lines_."

"_The destiny of the infinite children... is like water on the sand._.." a hybrid reported in the chaos. "_Without God the mouse consumes the cheese... reactor breach imminent... evacuate... the channels of joy and_-"

"_This is Captain Keene Riggs on Rhapsody approach. Caprica Gulf niner-niner callsign Corovian Star, checking in, VFR on top. Over_," The communication was standard protocol by either the pilot or commanding officer of any commercial liner on final approach to a control tower but to her it roared out of the void.

The _Corovian Star_ was a standard Intersun Passenger Cruiser found throughout the Colonies, the mainstream form of transportation between the major colony worlds. Over one thousand transients could be carried at a time, the more commercial designs able to add another five hundred onto that. _Corovian_ was one of those, flying one thousand and four hundred commuters between the _Picon_ to _Rhapsody Station_ over _Caprica_. Most of those were families returning from the holiday season on the colony world; _Picon's_ beach side resorts were second to none in the Colonial tourist industry.

"_Sssssttttttsssss…..ssssstttttnnnnsssss….ssssnnnnntttssss…"_

Static was all that came back over the speaker in response to Riggs' communication. She and the crew onboard the inbound liner had no idea that the _Rhapsody_ control tower and the entirety of the orbital station was now nothing more than molten radioactive slag slowly dissolving in orbit around _Caprica_.

Oblivious to this Riggs continued her call. "_Rhapsody tower, this is Caprica Gulf niner-niner," she repeated, "requesting vectors to the initial. Over_."

Gritty and noisy static echoed through the speakers.

"_Sssssttttttsssss…..ssssstttttnnnnsssss….ssssnnnnntttssss_…"

"_This is Captain Keene Riggs on Rhapsody approach. Caprica Gulf niner-niner callsign Corovian Star, checking in. VFR on top. Over."_

Unknown to Riggs her ship's transmission was being picked up by someone else.

She regarded the transport with some curiosity from the relative safety of her _Basestar_ in low orbit below the ship. She had always found humans to be a fascinating creature, even if they were ultimately a failure in God's design. That was the original reason she had volunteered for the mission on _Caprica_.

Whatever had gone wrong the backdoor in the Colonial's Command Navigation Program had backfired and the result was heavier Cylon losses then had been projected when they signed up for this mission.

It was little concern for her now, her mission, whatever its success, was over and she was back among her people.

_So why would I give anything to be on that Colonial ship right now_, Six suddenly thought to herself.

"_Rhapsody tower, this is Caprica Gulf niner-niner requesting vectors to the initial. Over."_

How blind this Keene Riggs was, to be transmitting on an open frequency inside a combat zone. She must have had no idea of the war going on around her.

Six felt a tiny pang of jealousy towards the _Corovian_, for the humans that currently rode her blindly into harm's way.

"Caprica?" a Four asked. "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry what?" she repeated as she was too lost in her thoughts to hear him approach.

"You have a Colonial ship escaping," he gestured towards the dradis screen. "Why haven't you launched a missile at it yet?"

For a long moment Six stared at him, before she blurted out something she would regret. "Do we have to destroy them?"

"What?" the Four almost toppled over at the question.

"Do we have to?" she continued to press her luck even as several other models began to turn to witness her outburst, "I mean they never knew we were coming. They were just living their lives when we attacked them without reason or warning."

"Reason? You want a reason!" Four bellowed at the blasphemy he was hearing. "Humans are flawed creations that are no higher up the evolutionary ladder then rats. We're doing the universe a favor by wiping the off the face of this solar system once and for all. It's God's will we do so."

"If it was God's will then why our virus would have backfired? Why would some of our sleepers not respond to their programming? Why would the Colonials still be here and not running off at the sight of our once mighty liberation fleet come down on them? If God truly does live then why would he order us to commit murder," in her defiance _Caprica_ suddenly asked the question that sent a collective gulp among the assembled Cylons. "Does God not love all?"

"You've been spending too much time among these filthy creatures," Four roared. "Fire the damned missile or I'll have you boxed!"

Accepting defeat and slowly returning to her station under the eyes of a seething Four, Six brought up the _Basestar's_ targeting system and locked onto the wandering transport. Manipulating the controls she loaded one missile into the launcher and still listening to voice of Captain Riggs… fired….

* * *

"Spatial transition complete," Navigator Eldnac Rox Yaj Rewolf-Day Boloreen confirmed, the eight foot tall Raxacoricofallapatorian swiveled about from her station as her two massive, featureless black eyes locked onto her commanding officers. "All systems report green status."

"Tactical," Captain Hank Economides called out, the dark skinned Greek turned towards the officer in question, "give me a report."

"I am detecting several Colonial vessels involved in close quarters combat with a group Cylon capital ships," tactical officer Lieutenant Calormere Narut rattled off, the blue-skinned Delvian quickly updating the holo-space of the SIT for the battlefield they had now jumped into. "I have tagged numerous wreckage's and several dozen life-pods scattered around the surrounding space."

"Position us between both sides," the superior officer ordered, watching as the distant battle began to grow closer to them. "Continue to broadcast an order of challenge on all active channels, wait for response."

The _Commonwealth of Tears _was an aging _Anole-_class Deep Stand-Off destroyer, formerly a ship design fielded by the religiously Christian colony of _Constantinople_ in the outer Gamma Rimward arm of Milky Way as a heavy pirate combat ship. When it became apparent to the Space Guard that the _Anole's_ were a highly innovative and versatile series after they had a near perfect kill to loss ratio of fifty to one the Hegemony bought the rights to produce their own version of the ship. It came into its own during the _Vasholla War_ almost several hundred cycles ago when _Anole's_ destroyers proved to be one of the few ships that could survive a direct hit from the insectiod's electromagnetic protonic energy torpedoes. For sheer luck its thin sensor profile yet sweeping design proved best for absorbing and dispersing large amounts of energy away from the ship and out into space.

It became the front line destroyer of the Space Guard in only a decade and since then at least one _Anole's_ was included in almost any standard battlegroup. The 95SpinwardαǼ was lucky enough to get two; the _Commonwealth_ herself and her sister ship the_ Andromeda Ajax_.

"Cycle the forward cannons and have the point defense lasers on over time," Economides order as he swivled his command chair to face towards the massive holo-tank that dominated the center of the bridge.

"Gunnery crews are on standby," XO Commander Sivara Neelarasal said as he held station on the 'north' end of the holo-tank, "kinetic missiles are loaded and cannons are charged."

"Target the two closest _Basestars_," Hank commanded, "fire at will."

Devoted to major forward offensive combat, to which most of her crew could vouch that the one-G backlash from her plasma cannon firing, the _Commonwealth_ was more than prepared when she jumped in on the Cylon's side of the battlefield and unleashed all her weapons at once.

A plasma cannon opened fire, dissecting a _Basestar_ into two separate chunks. Secondary fire from her point defense turrets laid down a field of death in front of her to make room for the massive wave of offensive kinetic missiles it unloaded.

Each of the eighty missiles carried a micro fission warhead, both feeding the engine that powered it and the weapon it carried to almost blinding speed. _Raiders_ that attempted to sacrifice themselves to stop the incoming fire found themselves too slow to intercept them and those that could were torn apart by the sheer force of the device slamming through them.

The _Raider_ of today's age was a radical new design to the older class, yet still resembling the flying wing that was her previous counterpart almost forty-years ago. Equipped with an very powerful FTL drive, two kinetic energy weapons and a full payload of nuclear weapons, they were a deadly swarm to tangle with.

But what made the _Raider_ truly a powerful asset in the Cylon fleet was its bio-mechanical nature. Incorporating a number of large 'organs' in its designs including a central brain, the modern _Raider_ was in effect a living creature. Though self-aware, it was nowhere near the intelligence level of a humanoid Cylon, closer to that of a trained animal; an attack dog.

Yet like the humanoids, the _Raider_ pilot consciousness could be transferred into a new unit when it was destroyed. This allowed the average _Raider_ to learn from its previous life and become a more efficient warrior in combat.

"_Their fighters are attempting to act as a shield to our weapons_," the _Commonwealth's_ main AI, Lockheed, observed from the floor of the holo-tank as he ran a holographic hand over his shaved translucent head.

"Effectiveness?" Economides inquired as several hundred tiny icons on the SIT all rushed to intercept their incoming ordinance.

"_Minimal_," the AI was almost incredulous at the insinuation. "_Their small size and lack of any form of electronic jamming is just letting our missiles just go around or just pigeon hole them_."

In the end sixty of the moon shaped fighters were lost, only succeeding to deflect, not destroy, fifteen of the eighty inbound devices. Both of the damaged and listing _Basestars_ the _Commonwealth_ had originally amputated and two more completely undamaged by its entrance onto the battleground disappeared as a wave of uncontrollable chaotic energy tore them into ash.

_Raiders_ too close to their motherships ignited into tiny stars as the temperature in the surrounding space jumped to almost two thousand Kelvin or, more than three thousand one hundred forty degrees Fahrenheit.

The sight of seeing their rear fleet cut in haft was enough to encourage the remaining Cylon force to retreat, the two remaining _Basestars_ blinked out in mere seconds after they confirmed their carriers were officially gone.

But the _Raiders_ still remained.

"Sir," Narut noted as the swarm on the SIT began to rive and squirm into a more concentrated school of icons, "the remaining fighters are regrouping."

"Alright, take position," the captain ordered. "Stand by for protective fire and defensive measures. Redirect all secondary power to structural integrity and prepare for evasive measures."

"We're not the objective," Narut interjected.

"_Lieutenant Narut is right, sir_," Lockheed concurred as he appeared in human-form in front of Hank. "_The formation is headed towards the Colonial ships_."

"Oh my Gaia," communications officer Lieutenant Junior Grade Niwh Reiziv acknowledged. "Their advance is not offensive but ballistic."

"What approximately does that mean?" Economides asked.

"_Their impact velocities will be in excess of ten thousand kilometers_," Lockheed summarized. "_No part of the Colonial fleet can endure that type of impaction_."

Knowing time was now not on their side Captain Economides launched into action. "Switch all point defense cannons to wide angle spread and set the missile tubes to continuous defensive load out. Fire at will!"

"Firing!" Narut yelled out, the echoing thud of a myriad of weapon ports below deck began to belch forth deadly warheads with every bit of effort they could muster. "But there are too many of them, they're going to get through!"

"Warn the Colonials to get the hell out of here!" Hank yelled as his comm. officer rushed to transmit the warning.

* * *

The response was immediate and frantic.

"_Corovian Star transmitting in the blind guard_," Keene begged as the ship began to rapidly accelerate to escape the incoming weapon. "_Disengage! Repeat, disengage! Friendlies..._"

The cruise liner banked left but the guidance system on the missile quickly compensated and turned to follow.

"_Friendlies at two-zero clicks starboard aft of your position_," Riggs yelled as sounds of frightened people could be heard in the background. "_Angels 10. Track starboard. Disengage_!"

Six hung her head at the horror she had committed but could not force herself from turning off the transmission. It was her punishment to bear witness to their end.

"_Mayday, mayday_!" Riggs tried desperately to call for help, "_Caprica Gulf niner-niner is buddy-spiked! Abort! Abort! There are children aboard, say again, there are children aboard_!"

And finally the dradis screen went white as the missile detonated and the _Corovian Star_ disappeared from their view.

"They were nothing but a waste of a good missile," the Four reported as he logged the kill.

"Yeah, a waste," Six concurred in a uncaring voice of defeat.

But unknown to every model in the room save this Six, the _Corovian Star_ may have been gone from the Cylon's dradis, but it wasn't dead.

In her final check list Six had set the missile to detonate harmlessly at a thousand kilometer distance from the cruiser. Far enough away to leave the ship undamaged close enough that the radiation hid her from the Cylon sensors.

By the time the screen would clear Captain Riggs would hopefully notice the Cylon's apparent folly and jump her ship to safety.

Six may have been the key to destroying the Colonies but she believed that God wouldn't mind if she spared a few of these flawed creations from extinction.

* * *

Hitting a brick wall at full speed would leave you less dazed then running head long into one of these beings. He sputtered back, landing on his rump as he tried desperately to put enough distance between him and this beast. Again his blind desperation to escape led him backing up across the floor and right into another pair of legs.

This time however it was a warm smile on a human face that greeted him.

Well almost human, if it wasn't for the face head was bald and her skin was aqua blue.

"Stay down, little one," she advised in a accented by feminine voice. "Don't want to get in the way of the boys."

His response came out as a babbling moron, eliciting a toothy smile from the pair of beasts, if you could all the grimace of razor sharp teeth a smile.

"Sensors detect another four mechanoids advancing from the west," one of the hairy creatures actually spoke, its voice a deep almost gurgling sound.

"What of the boy," the blue woman nodded towards Darren, countering the prospect of battle.

"An inadequate use of our resources," the monster repeated. "He is uninjured and healthy youngling. It would be inadvisable to remove him from his natural habituate."

"Natural habituate!" the woman responded almost indigent. "Really Tuan, what natural habituate do you know of where nuclear fire rains down on defenseless populations?"

"He is small and will weigh us down," the creature responded.

"Illyani is correct, brother of my brood," the smaller and lighter furred of the two agreed. "Leaving the child will greatly reduce chances of survival to dangerous level."

"I'm not a kid!" Darren had watched the entire exchange and suddenly regretted his outburst.

Three pairs of eyes suddenly turned towards his position still sitting on his behind on the floor, making him groan at his current predicament.

A clawed hand reached out to help him up.

Darren looked up into the pair of piercing crystal eyes staring down at him and completely dumbfounded that he had just been saved from almost certain death by a upright standing wolf his mind was still functioning on autopilot.

Grabbing onto the surprisingly gentle hand Darren was hoisted up into the trio.

"Excuse our rude behavior, this is Lieutenants Tuan and Toan, representing the Hegemony member world of _Thana_" the blue woman introduced, "I am Lieutenant Commander Illyani, representing the member world of _Bolarus_. We are officers of the Hegemony Space Guard destroyer _Dynamic Year_. Your designation is?"

"Dar... Darren... Darren Unari," he managed.

"It is a pleasurable encounter to meet you Dar Darren Unari," Toan greeted, his companion Tuan barely giving the child a second glance.

"No...just Darren," he corrected.

"Discontinue this conversation," Tuan intercepted, his voice filling with annoyance, "we still have four mechanoids advancing. If the youngling is to come with us arm him."

Illyani un-strapped a second rifle from her side holster and pushed it into Darren hands.

"Watch the kick back," she advised, "it can be murder on your arm."

"Conversation is henceforth discontinued," Tuan finally bellowed, "enemy is closing."

Another toothy grin from the towering behemoth sent a shiver down Darren's spine and now it wasn't the cold air, it was the cold gun in his hand.

_I should have stayed in my dorm room,_ he finally thought to himself...

* * *

The crack of the gun was enough to drive the crowd back a few steps, the spray of dirt and burnt grass from the explosive projectile pushed them a few steps back.

"That's as close as you get!" Helo shouted as he waved his weapon dangerously towards the crowd. "Okay? Let's just settle down here... settle down and no one gets hurt."

It wasn't enough to convince them totally, someone screamed, obscenity were thrown, eyes stared at with desperation and hate.

"I have to get out of here!" a man held up a fist full of money and tried to hand it over to the ECO. "I'll give you fifty thousand cubits!"

"Sixty thousand!" a woman threw a hand up in the air. "Sixty thousand to get me out of here!"

Other voices start chiming in, in a sudden bidding war erupts among the mob as people dug in their pockets for whatever they could offer them for a quick escape.

"We're not taking..." Helo protested as a woman began to strip the jewelry from her body and thrust it in his direction. "WE'RE NOT TAKING MONEY! This isn't a rescue ship. This is a military vessel and we're-"

"You can't leave us here!" one man dressed in a business suite gestured towards the lingering blast clouds on the horizon. "Look at that!"

The screaming jumped in volume, again the crowd began to edge dangerously forward. Sharon opened fire this time from atop the Raptor wing, the shot again driving the mass back a little further.

A woman shoved a small boy forward, wrapping her hands protectively around him as if tempting them to shot.

"For Gods' sake... take my nephew!" she shouted, tearing rushing down her face. "Please!"

"What about my wife!" someone else protested, quickly they were joined by more and more.

Sharon shot Helo a look, returning back the glare as the situation continued to spiral out of control even faster.

"Alright... alright... ALRIGHT!" Boomer shrieked over the crowd, again pointing her weapon at the civilians to get them to quiet. "Children first... children!"

Five children, ranging from barely able to walk to teenagers, shyly stepped forward. All were tear streaked, all covered in dirt.

"All right," Boomer waved her pistol towards the open cabin door to the waiting _Raptor_. "The kids go... and we can take three more people"

Even as the youngsters scrambled up the wing and into the ship, again the crowd began to descent into chaos.

"That's the maximum load!" Helo shouted over the dissent. "If we're going to break orbit."

"Who chooses the three?" the man in the suit again roared. "You?"

The murmur of unhappiness that rippled through the crowd began to worry the pilots. Even if they were armed, they both only had so many bullets and the mob outweighed them significantly.

They'd never had enough time or ammunition to take them all down before they were ripped limb from limb.

"No one chooses!" Sharon shouted. "Lottery, we'll have a lottery! Everyone gets a number. We put the numbers in a box... pull out three. That's it. No arguing, no appeal."

"And I will shoot the first person who tries to board this ship without a winning number," Helo warned the herd.

"Helo... get your flight manual... tear out the pages..."

* * *

"Such fun," Illyani actually giggled as she slapped another round into her rifle, quickly discharging the weapon into the faceplate of a still sparking Centurion. "Remind me to tell my wife and co-husband about this when we get leave."

"Female, I will take you myself to _Bolarus_ to tell them when were finished here," Tuan, the darker of the pair responded, one of his claws lashing into the torso of the nearest robot. "In the meantime stop verbalizing and shoot!"

"Anger will solve nothing, brother of my brood," Toan, smaller of the second, shaking off another Centurion that had tried to lock him into a headlock.

"It makes me feel better to break things," Tuan grumbled, absently kicking one of the recently decapitating Centurions. "Especially things that shoot at me."

"Then I will be overjoyed to inform our mother of this brood of such a relaxing mission in the future," Toan mocked his sibling, eliciting a hiss of disdain from him.

"What happened to not verbalizing?" Illyani laughed, kicking her boot into another approaching machine with a laugh. "By the Goddess this reminds me of my last honeymoon!"

During the entire exchange Darren could only watch half hidden behind a ticket counter, clutching the weapon he had been handed ten minutes before to his chest. It was insanity. These people were locked in combat with murderous Cylons and they were laughing about it.

As he watched the two wolves went to work, slicing and smashing through any of the Centurions that got in their path. Illyani held a pistol of some kind at the ready, picking off any the creatures missed.

Tuan and Toan were Tanathrops from the world of _Thana_, a race of twins. Even brood held two cubs, two boys or two girls or as close to those distinct gender the human mind could comprehend. They would be nurtured together, serve together and someday raise a family with an opposing pair of twins. No matter where there was one Tanathrop, his twin was always close behind.

Because of the Tanathrops largely bestial appearance they had garnered a reputation on many a sapient world as just above blood thirsty beasts, a reputation that Tanathrops short patience and aggressive approach to every situation only helped to reinforce.

Surprisingly more of their people entered the arts and liberal studies then fighting.

Tuan and Toan were one of those rare exceptions that happened to match the stereotype of selfless warriors.

If it weren't for the Holy Kintari Commune, a founding Hegemony empire, sponsoring their membership two-thousand cycles ago, that stereotype would have probably kept them from joining the Hegemony... or more likely said aggressive approach would have pissed off the coalition of alien nations enough to wipe them out.

The sound of a body hitting the ground caught Darren's attention from his cowering. Toan had taken a direct burst, his armor shrugging off the hit but the force of a point blank was enough to win the poor creature.

Stumbling back the Centurion who had perpetuated the deed raised its arm cannon, pointing the barrels directly into the Tanathrop's unprotected head.

It would have fired, splayed Toan's five lobed brain all across the walls, smashing skull fragments over the ground like snowflakes and ensuring the prefect kill shot... until a plasma bolt struck the Centurion in the faceplate and sent the entire machine toppling backwards.

"Thanks for the save, Illyani," the wolf gasped as he wiped the dripping white blood from his mouth.

"Wasn't me," the Bolian yelled as she unleashed another assault on an advancing Centurion.

Both turned, staring at the source of the real savior.

Darren's eyes stood wide in shock, his shaking hands still holding the smoking plasma rifle.

"Well I'll be," Tuan laughed as he removed a mechanical arm from its socket, "the youngling has a marksman's eye."

"Appreciation," his brother bowed before surveying the complete destruction. "But it looks like you have missed out on the full exchange."

"We will have to find further combat for him to enjoy," Toan smiled, actually attempting to make a very poor joke.

"How can you laugh about this?" Darren muttered incredulously.

"Let's move out," Illyani announced before an answer could be given.

The two Tanathrops moved off on their hind legs, their broad builds finding it hard to navigate the hallway that most humans would find wide. Darren and Illyani brought up the rear, a blue woman and an average college student with a matching number of bruises and dirt stains all over his body.

"One thing you learn in the Space Guard," Illyani whispered to them as they continued on, "is that if you let it get to you, every death, every setback, it will kill you inside. We laugh, joke and make lewd comments because if not you'll end up like Tuan."

"I have heard your exchange," the mentioned creature growled, "and it does not affect my emotional state."

"If I had intended to hurt your feelings my boy, I would have insulted your thinning hide," Illyani smiled, but her comment eliciting a roar from Tuan. "Don't you dare bear you teeth at me! You may be stronger than me anatomically but I can still kick your tail across this planet and that's without the fact I outrank you."

For a second Darren took a step back preparing for the worse.

Illyani was probably around five foot four, Tuan was just covering eight feet and had more muscles in his thumb then the young woman had in her whole body. If he wanted to the wolf could disembowel her in a quick slash of his claw.

But surprisingly he backed down and turned towards their exit.

"Tanathrops may be terrifying," Illyani advised Darren who suddenly seemed a bit shaken but not only the exchange but this entire ordeal, "but they certainly do respect the chain of command."

Just because Tanathrops were a twin breed didn't mean everything about them was identical. Tuan was the independent, smart mouth with a rebellious streak; Toan was the quiet, logical one. Apart neither made much of a Space Guard officer; together they balanced the equation just barely.

"Sensors indicate a platoon of mechanoids several meters ahead," Toan cautioned, tapping at the holographic display on his wrist comm.

"Yes but sensors also show the platoon is retreating," Tuan added, a similar display on his own forearm.

"We didn't beat the last group that badly," Illyani reported. "We're three soldiers against more than ten times that."

"Centurions don't retreat, they are the cannon fodder of the Cylons..." he trailed off as the three Space Guard officers turned to regard him. "My thesis statement was over Cylon War era military tactics."

"A scholar among us," Tuan teased.

Toan wasn't far behind, "Knowledge wins war, not muscle."

"He's right," Illyani agreed. "The Cylons have numerical superiority, we have technological superiority. The youngling is right, they wouldn't retreat without provocation."

"Then allow us to make headway back to the transport," Toan advised, gaining a nod from his companion and superior.

* * *

"One-twenty-seven," Sharon held the page number up in the air, though it was nothing more but a torn corner from her flight manual. "One-two-seven."

The crowd was silent and anxious, everyone staring at the numbers in their hands and shifting uncomfortably.

A woman squealed in the back of the crowd, ecstatic that she had been assured rescue. Passing through the crowd, she quickly clamored into the ship, not concerned at the number of dirty looks being shot at her fortuitous fate.

"Last one," Sharon called out, still keeping her weapon paired with Helo as they kept the crowd back. "Forty-seven. Four-seven."

In the crowd a man clutched his number, staring down at the 188 scribbled quickly on a piece of crumpled paper and fighting the sense of dread in his heart.

"Excuse me?" he looked up, an elderly woman in a fade print dress was standing beside him. "I forgot my glasses somewhere... I don't remember where exactly, but... could you read this for me?"

She held a worn and smeared piece of paper in her withered hands, even if it looked like it was ready to fall to pieces he could distinctly see the forty-seven scribbled across it. Her dress was faded, stained with dirt, her eyes glazed over with cataracts and only one shoe on her foot.

Older then time itself, she would never notice if he just plucked...

"Hey," a voice called out, "aren't you Gaius Baltar?"

He snapped his head around as everyone turned to look at him, as the crowd finally noticed the celebrity in their midst. One of the pilots had called his name, the crowd parting as everyone stepped out of the way to see where his gaze had fixated.

"Yes, why?" he snatched his hand back from the woman's number. "I haven't done anything!"

The pilot shot him a concerned look but decided to let it drop.

"Could you come up here, please?" he gestured for him to come forward.

"All right," Baltar bobbed his head quickly and realizing he was already in hot water he grabbed the arm of the elderly woman beside him. "Come on. This woman has number forty-seven."

A universal groan of dismay rolled, some people just broke down in tears, some just stared off into the distance, a few angrily threw their numbers to the ground.

Sharon watched the man's approach, her sidearm still in hand as she waved it across the crowd line.

"What're you doing?" she asked her partner in a quiet voice, shooting a worried glare at the remaining crowd.

"Giving up my seat..." Helo responded, trying not to meet Sharon's floored expression.

"Like hell," her voice a little too loud and she noticed a few of the remaining civilians were starting to launch a few hungered and desperate looks at her that frazzled her nerves a little more.

"A civilian should go in my place," he continued to argue with her.

"You're going," Sharon wasn't having anything of it.

"Look at those clouds, Sharon," Helo gestured off to the horizon, where another mushroom plume began to rise over the hills. "Look at those clouds and tell me this isn't the end of... everything."

"Helo," she pressed, just one more time. "Don't do this..."

"Whatever future is left is going to depend on the people who survive," he reached a hand out, trying to calm her just enough so she could keep her cool and get these people out of here safely. "Give me one reason why I'm a better choice than one of the greatest minds of our time?"

By this time Gaius and the woman he had been escorting had reached the front of the crowd, Sharon fixed him with a long look as the man literally shrunk away under her gaze.

"You can do this without me, Sharon," Helo urged her towards the waiting _Raptor._ "I know you can. You've proven it."

She gave him a long hard look and for a second Agathon wondered if she was actually going to go through with it.

"Get on board," she shouted at the pair before scrambling up the wing.

The crowd erupted in outrage, shouted and screams of indignation rippled through the forty individuals as Baltar and his elderly female companion climbed up the wing.

"Hey what's this?" a man in overalls shouted. "What's going on?"

"Why is he going?" a business woman added her own fury. "What're you doing?"

"I'm important too!" an older gentleman shook his fist. "That's not fair! Start over!"

"Sharon go!" Helo swung his pistol through the crowd; the weapon was starting to lose its deterrent to the mob. "Stand back! I said stand back!"

Two men broke the line first and Helo's training kicked in without thought, two shots rang out on after another as two bodies hit the dusty group. It wasn't enough to get the desperate rioters to back down and another man shrugged forward.

He lined up another shot, lightly put pressure onto his trigger and... click.

The gun jammed.

Dropping it down to check what had caused the malfunction; the man lunged up the wing of the Raptor and threw himself at the boarding Gaius. The scientist was caught off-guard and in his off balanced stance, tumbled off the wing with his attacker.

The man wasted no time before he started pummeling him.

Helo dropped his service revolver, dashing forward to wrench the two apart.

"GO!" he screamed. "GET OUT OF HERE NOW!"

The mass was starting to eye the open hatch of the _Raptor_ and Sharon knew her time was running out... and no matter how much she fought Helo wasn't going to get abroad in time.

Engines roared, the hatch began to lower and the craft began to rise.

Its departure was enough for a woman to break the line and throw herself onto the wing of the levitating ship. Sharon could already see she had a footing; she was hanging on for dear life and banging desperately on the small porthole on the side of the hull.

If they were going to make it up they were either going to have to let her in or loss her...

The woman's back suddenly stiffened, and even from the angle staring back from the cockpit, Boomer could see a red rose suddenly blossoming on the civilian's chest... an instance before the limp body rolled off the _Raptor's_ wing.

Turning one last time to the ground, she noticed her former co-pilot holding his pistol still smoking in his hands...

* * *

"Cylon _Basestars_ have bugged out!" Cynthia announced as a collective cheer went up around the crew of the CIC.

"Thank the Lords of Kobol for small favors," Nagala prayed.

"Sir," Lance interrupted, "the remaining _Raiders_ are regrouping and accelerating.'

"Target?" Edward asked.

"Us sir," the terror that grew in his eyes was evident of the severity of the situation. "Their going kamikaze!"

"Evasive actions!" Nagala ordered, "Full flak fire!"

Any _Battlestar _in the Colonial armed forces carried some level of point defense guns; much like the _Atlantia _with most of her numerous cannons located along the flight pods. The entire system was tasked with destroying incoming projectiles, using sensors systems to identify, evaluate threats and assign priority base on its danger level to the ship. Although the main batteries were used to take out incoming fighters and ordinance, the point defense guns had a higher rate of fire with the singular purpose of ensuring that nothing got through its field.

This was because their ordnance was dummy rigged, no guidance system required, just point and shoot. Shots that missed their targets would continue on with the momentum they were launched at and making it an indiscriminate firing solution. Point defense guns were shredders and shatters, even if the rounds struck their intended targets, the space around the defending ship was filled with shrapnel, creating the dangerous chance of debris impact.

But regardless of this the _Atlantia's_ flak field could do little to counter the hundreds of fighters that could avoid the incoming bullets.

_Raiders_ dodged and spun, dancing around the fire from the mighty weapons of the warships. The four remaining _Battlestars_ and six _Defenders_ poured whatever they could into their thrusters as they attempted to retreat from combat.

_Agamemnon_ was the furthest into the fight, still trying to pull itself out of the botched spearhead maneuver. Sixty _Raiders_ slammed into her from all angles, each detonating their weapon's payload and tylium fuel tanks for the maximum effect. The explosion was enough to throw the ship violently to starboard, as she spun in the void of space. Fire and broken hull plating trailed behind her as the craft entered an uncontrolled vertical spin.

With the combined flak fields of the _Defiant_ and the _Atlas_ and their four escorting _Defenders,_ the flanking side of the fleet fair much better. That did little to calm the souls onboard the _Argus_, _Ceto_ and _Gyes_ as the _Defenders_ each exploded into clouds of nuclear refuse.

"I have two hundred and two Cylon _Raiders_ bearing seven four five carom two three nine, on a collision course with _Atlantia_!" Cynthia screamed as the dradis screens became crowded by incoming fighters.

"Order all crews to life boats and set guns to auto-fire!" Nagala ordered, before turning to regard his younger XO. "We're not going to be pulling out of this one my young friend."

"I'm not going anywhere, sir," Colonel Sheppard stayed firm.

"Then we go down with the ship," Nagala solemnly swore, "Lords have mercy on us."

The entire CIC shook as officers rushed to evacuate, though it was futile as the deck took a sharp tilt and gravity snatched an unlucky few to be thrown aside. Lights flickered as the roar of a nearby hull breach could be heard. Nagala could only imagine what level of damage they were taking if the command information center was almost two hundred feet deep inside the forward section of _Atlantia_.

Unknown to them the _Battlestar_ was bleeding fire and atmosphere into space as she drifted slowly. Her engines were dead, flickering in vain but never to light again.

An explosion tore through the starboard flight-pod, two _Raiders_ had slammed into the superstructure and managed to strike the fuel lines. It worked its way up the hull like an angry vein, transgressing across _Atlantia's _spine and down onto the port flight-pod.

For just a moment the _Battlestar _seemed to have wings of fire... just for an instance before both flight-pods exploded into shrapnel.

Spherical life pods jettisoned in all directions trying to escape the doomed craft, few making it far as several still vigilant _Raiders_ picked off those that made it out. Designed for survival over combat, they cracked like eggs from just a few hits.

Finally in one massive death groan the running lights on the _Atlantia_ flashed and died before the rear engine section finally exploded, shattering the remaining intact forward areas.

The _Battlestar Atlantia_ and the great Admiral Edward Nagala had died, forever known as the _Defenders of Virgon_.

* * *

Down the escalator, across the check in floor and out into the parking grounds with bullets still glowing in the asphalt. But unlike when Darren had staggered over the grounds barely an hour ago, atop the broken surface a fat blue shuttle sat. Its back hatch lay open, a short man, or at least it looked like a man, scurried from under the landing struts.

"Lieutenant Commander Illyani!" the man stammered. "I'm sorry the landing portal is still sticking, I'll promise it will be fixed in a few moments."

"Forget it, Bray," the Bolian waved off. "We have a bigger problem. Get the ship powered up and make an active scan of the region."

The Eniuqe rushed to complete the duty, a bit too nervous and shaky as he bounced, not walked up the landing ramp on his two stubbly legs.

Onboard Darren took position at the back of the craft as four officers went to work. Tuan and Toan took the side consoles that covered the better part of the port and starboard sides of the interior, while Illyani and Bray took position in the cockpit.

"Initiating an active scan now," Bray called out.

"I believe I have a reason for the Cylon's retreat," Tuan announced. "Thermonuclear device inbound on trajectory five by five by eight. Eta thirty seconds."

"Not enough time to clear the blast zone," Illyani surmised. "Lock us down and divert all power to the armor."

Activating the nearby door mechanism the back hatch began to lift into place, airtight locks securing in place.

"You want us to get hit!" Darren gasped.

"In the air we will be diverting power to life support, engines, armor," Toan explained. "On the ground we can push that all into our defenses."

"Thermonuclear device is ten seconds from impact," Bray counted down.

"What about the city?" inquired Darren.

"I'm sorry," Tuan actually seemed sincere. "This is a shuttle, not a fighter... no weapons. We can do nothing to intercept the device at its current velocity."

"Activating photosensitive barrier," Bray confirmed as the forward window of the cockpit darkened. "Impact in seven... six... five... four... three... two..."

Before the final number could be uttered the shaded portal to the outside world was consumed in a white wash of light and the shuttle gave a sudden shudder.

"Armor at ninety percent... sixty... fifty... holding at fifty percent efficiency," Tuan rattled off.

"Ambient temperature is in excess of six-thousand Kelvin," Toan said as the lights dimmed a bit in the cabin. "Energy release is decreasing... nuclear discharge is subsiding..."

"Raising photosensitive barrier," Bray confirmed.

The shade rose, the bright light outside slowly faded as the once cold fall sky was awash in dirty black smoke. The far off skyline of Brooksheir was gone; nothing other than a few jagged pin heads on the horizon gave any hint of the former settlement. Even the tarmac station that obscured said skyline a steaming foundation with no building to dominate it.

"Contact _Dynamic_," Illyani soberly said. "Confirm that metropolitan zone Caprica-1920 is destroyed. One confirmed survivor present. Move us out to metropolitan zone Caprica-1921 to continue rescue operations."

"Two million," the voice was quiet, barely a whisper but they all heard it.

"Excuse me?" Bray asked, as he started to power up the shuttles AG-field for liftoff.

"The university did the census for the Ministry of Education last year," Darren mumbled, playing absently with a button on his sleeve. "Two million people between the metropolitan and suburban zones... mostly families because of Brooksheir's excellent education system... mostly kids..."

No one spoke as the shuttle rose into the air; no one could say anything to make the situation any better. Only distance would help to forget this tragedy.

* * *

People screamed, wailed, threw themselves down on the ground in total abandonment.

More than a few turned their frustration out on him.

"Murder!"

"You condemned us all!"

"Hold him down, he's probably got a radio to call for another ship!"

The crowd was drawing in a little closer, their eyes a light with only vengeance and outrage, wanting someone to blame, someone to take their anger out on.

"Stand back!" Helo hoisted his pistol up and the instance the gun barrel was pointed at them they backed up. "If we are going to make it out of here then we have to start working together."

The majority of them didn't seemed to convinced but against wave of his gun across the line was enough to get the point across that he was now in charge.

"We stay calm," he ordered, taking note of those that were backing off in their aggression and those that were still eyeing him up. "We can still get help but if we go at each other's throats then we're all doomed."

A general grumble mumbled through the crowd, agreement mostly, resentment in a thankful minority.

Turning back though keeping his weapon ready, he finally took a look at the man that had caused all this outrage, who was rudely clutching a throbbing bruise on his forehead.

"You alright?" Karl asked, wondering if the man was still alive after being thrown from the _Raptor's_ wing.

"Yeah," Baltar said but the moment Helo reached out to help him out he slapped the hand away. "I can do it myself!"

"Fine… fine…" he sighed, giving the man some space, "just trying to help."

"What do we do now?" Gaius hissed through his clenched teeth, staring up at his fearless leader who had frakked him over so royally.

"Hammermill Spaceport is about twenty miles north of here," Helo shrugged, taking a glance towards the horizon of rising mushroom clouds. "I say we start hiking and see if we can get a ship off-world as soon as possible."

"And if there aren't any more ships?" Baltar voice was filled with cynicism.

"Then we keep walking…"

* * *

The Centurion crunched across the ground, servos clanking and groaning as the robot moved across the ground. So set, so programmed to complete its duty it never noticed the broken limb until he smacked right into it.

Turning its head down, it took a second to register the discarded piece of junk before it reached down and snatched up the object, moving on towards the waiting repair shed

"Come on, you metal moron," Sue-Shaun whispered under his breath as she watched from the underbrush cover, "go inside. Let's take out all those supplies."

Slowly the machine approached the crate, punching in a long code of some sort before the entire side facing them rolled back like a shutter to give the machine access.

It was just reaching for a wrench when it head something... the crack of a branch... it swung around, unhinging its arm cannon and firing... catching some poor team mate in the head and costing him his life for just trying to move to a better position.

Immediately two of Ander's team opened fire, the bullets doing enough to blind the Centurion for just a second... long enough for Sam to hit the plunger in his hands and watch the robot limb in the Centurion's hands explode in a brilliant flash and a thousand colors.

"We got to get out of here," he wheezer, trying to be as quiet as possible. "They could be coming back."

"Anders," Sue-Shaun stopped him from leaving, instead pointing towards the clearing beyond them, "it's open."

Turning around he noticed she was right. Preoccupied by the gunfire the Centurion had failed to close the repair shed door, leaving it hanging open and fluttering in the morning breeze.

"Look," Wheeler added as he joined them, "the door's open a little. We could pry it and still blow the shed-"

"No," Kai hissed, "let's finish this."

Before they could react she snatched the explosive Wheeler had been holding in his right hand and made a sprinting run towards the repair shed.

"No! Hey, no!" Anders tried to go after her but she was just too fast.

"Come on," Coach must have taken this as a sign of attack because he dashed after Kai, three other people in tow.

"Coach, no!" Sam called after them but still they were moving too fast and too far into the open. "Get back here! Coach, no!"

Kai was already in the clearing, dashing with the ball shaped explosive in her hands. She quickly noticed however the Centurion they had hit was merely damaged, not destroyed.

Though everything below its torso was gone it still managed to push itself up and onto its elbows, pointing its already deployed arm cannon at them.

"Coach!" she shouted and without pause she toasted the grenade to him... before throwing herself atop the Centurions gun... at point blank range her body was merely a temporary shield when the weapon fired.

Catching the explosive, Coach twisted back, aimed his shot and threw with all his might. Even if the opening in the repair shed was barely a foot across years of training made that ball sail right through the hole and inside... just a second before the entire structure exploded.

"Ahhh!" they all screamed as whatever was inside of the shed must have amplified the detonation.

Instead of a small blast they received a towering fire ball that could probably be seen for miles.

"Whoa!" Sue-Shaun hissed, trying to rub the spots from her eyes. "What the frak was in there?"

But Sam didn't answer her, he was more concerned about those people down at the blast sight. Two people were already on the ground, checking on the injured, trying to access Coach's and Kai's condition.

Something howled in the air and all eyes turned skyward... just as the first _Raider_ cleared the treeline.

"Incoming!"

* * *

Inside the CIC, Adama watched the dradis screens as Starbucks _Viper_ rocketed away from _Galactica_, she pushed the throttle as high as it would go. Before her fellow pilots rolled and danced around the three offending _Raiders_, trying to strike a hit against the rapidly moving targets.

A buzzer went off at Dualla's station, the specialist quickly reached over to check it as Adama stared intently at the dradis column.

"_This is Starbuck_," Kara's voice rang out over the speakers. "_Keep him boxed in! I got a shot right up the gut_."

With Starbuck on the scene his concern began to evaporate...

"Radiological alarm!" Dee shouted out from the far side of the CIC.

Concern began to rise in all the faces of the officers.

"He's got a nuke," Adama commented.

"Haven't heard that in a long time," Tigh nodded.

The dradis console showed the dancing icons, the spinning and rolling among the enemy combatants as two of the _Raiders_ broke from the melee and began to make a bee-line towards the _Battlerstar. _If Starbucks Viper could just get close enough to squeeze off a...

"_Frak_!" Kara cursed over the wireless. "_Galactica... you've got an inbound nuke! All Vipers... BREAK BREAK BREAK!"_

The warning klaxons were screaming, officers were holding tight to their stations and the fear rising in the CIC could be cut with a knife.

"Right bow, left stern..." Adama shouted over the coming chaos. "Emergency full, all engines!"

Looking back up at the dradis column the missile was barely a kilometer until it struck the ship and...

It exploded and the resulting energy bloom slammed into their bow...


	5. Chapter Five: Stand for the First Time

**Chapter**: Five – Stand for the First Time

**Rating**: PG-13

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Feedback**: Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywrited by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

* * *

_This is what I've seen in the four weeks since the war started: people killing people. Which is much what I saw in the four weeks before the war, and the four weeks before that. And before that, as far back as I care to remember. People killing people. Which, to my mind, puts us in a state of normality right now._

Commander Theodora Russell, _A History of the Federation_, 2063 to 2155 C.E.

* * *

**Time**:_ Month of Ichor, Nineteenth Day, 3021 A.F. Hegemony Calendar / February 21st, 6230 C.E. Terran Calendar Plus Ten Hours from Initial Cylon-Hegemony Contact._

**Location**: _Isha Hallow, Gemenon, Twelve Colonies of Kobol, Cyrannus Solar System_

* * *

There was screaming everywhere, it overpowered everything it drown it out and left it nothing to challenge it.

Another rocket hit the ground, sending a wave of concrete and turn into the air as the shouts and anguish rose in crescendo. The sky was black, not even the search lights that scored the skies could find the stars.

An evacuation transport screamed over their heads, forcing Beck to shield his eyes as the ship kicked up a wave of dust. Watching his feet and squinting his eyes, he stumbled over a pile of debris, never once letting go of the hand clutching his own.

Soldiers raced past them, heading towards the battlefront that was slowly growing like a spreading cancer through the city. Their lines were being slowly pushed back, reduced to nothing but a few checkpoints and a battalion or two.

"Come on!" he shouted, tightening the grip on the hand as he speed around the corner... and right into a fire fight.

Colonial soldiers opened fire, catching a group of Centurions as they advanced.

Bullets whizzed overhead, harmlessly bouncing off the murderous robots that returned fire with sprays of metallic fury, reducing the Colonial lines to bloody misery.

Skirting back he rolled back around the corner they had just come from, racing through the intersection and going the opposite direction as the soldiers slowly fell under the awesome fire power of the Cylons.

"Where are we going?" the child shouted, his short legs fighting to keep up with him.

"Hold on, Mack!" he called back to his younger brother as they stumbled through the ruined streets, slowly being joined by masses of terrified civilians. "Don't let go!"

The wind howled as another transport rushed over head, though this time it wasn't going or leaving the city but running from the squadron of _Raiders _chasing after it.

Shadows danced menacingly over the walls as a spot light rolled over them, quickly leaving as it search out pockets of enemy resistance.

A skyscraper exploded, shattering into millions of pieces as thick steel beams and chunks of glass slammed into the street a good block down from them... blocking their path.

Without hesitation he thrust them down a narrow alleyway, all the time he clenched the muscles in his hand as hard as they could go.

"The ship!" Mack shouted, pointing upward as a _Raptor_ roared in for a landing towards the towering building that rose above them.

"There's still time!" he shouted, though a far off explosion drown him out.

Not waiting, not thinking, he pushed through the lobby doors of the building and found himself slammed by a wall of bodies.

Everyone pressed against each other, clawing, pushing, shoving, trying desperately to get on one of the departing shuttles.

"Women and children!" a soldier screamed into a bull-horn. "That's all we are taking!"

He shoved his way through the crowd, not making for the overcrowded elevators that were being filled like sardine cans with refugees and instead heading for the stairs.

In the confusion people were concerned about the fastest way to reach the ships, they had forgotten the stairs, while longer to traverse, which utterly empty.

Taking the stairs three at time they vaulted upward, the spinning of the spiral staircase was enough to make his stomach want to hurl.

Behind him Mack's boots clanged on the rungs, the bowler hat on his head was caught by a gust of wind from a broken window and tossed carelessly into the air.

_So close_, Beck desperately thought to himself.

"You can do it!" his older brother called back. "Almost there."

Eighty flights of steps breezed by, even if the burning need for oxygen in their chests was too much to bear... until they burst out onto the roof and found a wall of guns pointed at them.

"Please..." he shouted. "We're unarmed!"

The soldiers dropped their weapons, rushed hands pulled them forward and into the crowd of terrified souls.

A small shuttle pulled into port, precariously hovering on the edge of the building as it extended its gangplank for the hurried crowd to board.

In the haste no one extended the container bars along the walkway and as the civilians rushed to reach safety, a dozen people screamed as they were pushed off and into the open air.

Clutching his brother to his chest, they were almost to the front of the crowd when a hand slammed into his chest, forcing him back as a soldier stood vigilant before them.

"No more room!" he yelled over the roar of the shuttle's engines, his muddy and blackened face framed by the white walls of the vessel.

Terror gripped his chest and for a moment it all seemed lost... until he rammed his sibling forward.

"Please," he begged. "Take him! Take him for Gods sake!"

The soldier held his breath, almost unwilling to budge before he reached forward and snatched Mack from his arms.

"No!" his brother thrashed and fought as the strong man hauled him away. "No don't do this!"

The man was stronger and without pause or strain threw the child onto the gang plank and into the waiting arms of a door gunner.

Howling, shouting, pawing to be let through the hundred or so people on the roof tried to fight, but already the shuttle was rising into the air.

_I kept the promise_, he teary eyed watched the shuttle rise into the air even if he could see his brother's arms flailing for him through the shrinking door.

The ship would escape; at least one member of their family would live...

Another ship was coming in... too fast!

Its engines smoked, rents in its mammoth hull burned violently red smoke as it swung in violently to the dock.

Unprepared and blind the rising shuttle, his brother's shuttle, collided with the craft... tearing both in two as a mighty fire ball consumed them both.

"NO!..." his words were swallowed up again in the noise as the two destroyed ships lost their engines, gravity taking hold and pulling them to the ground hundreds of feet below...

* * *

The port flight-pod was aflame; the blackened steel skin was peeling away like burned paper under the beat and smoke belched violently into the cold space.

"_Galactica_, Starbuck," her voice crackled in the mic of her helmet, again trying to get a response from the stricken craft, "if you're reading me, the forward section of the port flight pod has sustained heavy damage."

No response for a long while, no sound came over the wireless other then the concern small talk among the _Viper_ pilots still aimlessly circled the warship.

Another bulkhead collapsed, fiery damage erupted out as atmosphere violently vented to space.

"_Galactica_," she continued to report into her comms. "You're getting violent decompressions all along the port flight pod. Do you read me? _Galactica_!"

For a long time there was no talk, no chatter and eventually they started to wonder the worse could have befallen the crew without actually taking out the ship.

Then something caught her attention, the fires on the _Battlestar's_ hull began to wink out one after another as the smoke gave a mighty belch and then dissipated. It almost relieved her, until she noticed the first black, scorched body tumbling off into the void.

"They had to vent," she mumbled bitterly as she watched the smoke along the port flight-pod finally began to fade, revealing the long, burned rents in the mammoth hull.

"_This is Galactica to Starbuck_," the light but stressed voice of Specialist Dualla greeted her a second later. "_You are clear to begin combat landings_."

"Received, _Galactica_," she accepted. "How many did we lose?"

"Thirty at last count," the woman responded after a beat. "The command wants to see you the moment you're back aboard."

Back on board _Galactica_, Dualla logged the other woman's response and began to set back to work.

"Starbuck is inbound to hangar bay," she reported, adjusting the her headset that was perched atop her ponytail head. "She'll be up once her _Vipers_ aboard."

"Good work, Dee," Adama nodded. "Now get down to the med-station and get that head wound looked at."

She didn't know what the Commander was implying until she felt the warm trickle of something on her forehead which until a few moments ago she had played off to sweat of the moment. Nodding she handed off her headset to a standby specialist and made a quick departure holding her brow.

"We need to restock and fast," the Old Man turned back to the tactical plotting station and his second in command. "There's a munitions depot in the _Ragnar Anchorage_."

"The book says," Tigh nodded as he paged through the three-ringed binder in his hands, "they have three Class B weapons coils in storage... or at least they did during the inventory two years ago.

"Thought the _Ragnar Anchorage_ was scrapped?" Gaeta asked as he approached, handing over several status reports from the recent battle.

"Should've been," Adama confirmed with grin satisfaction. "Budget cuts kept the Ministry from getting out there and taking it apart."

"Nice to see budget cuts helping for a change," Tigh smirked as he passed the binder over to the Lieutenant. "It's supposed to be a royal bitch to anchor a ship there. Hasn't had a real use since the last war and hasn't had a standing crew in thirty years."

"One of the reasons they decided to scrap it," Adama noted. "_Galactica_ docked there before Operation Talon and it took three attempts before she got a hard seal."

"Well..." Gaeta seemed a bit concerned about taking such a risk, "at least we know we'll be safe from the Cylons at _Ragnar_."

_Ragnar_ had a reputation as being avoided like the plague by the Cylons, its turbulent atmosphere and unique radiation seemed to play havoc with Centurions and _Raiders_ alike. It was the reason the Colonial Engineering Corp had spent month painstakingly building and dragging the station into orbit.

In its entire tenure the facility had been hit twice in the whole eleven years of the war it had been active.

"That's the theory," the Commander gave him an off look. "It's never been put to the test."

They all mull over the idea but there was little left to do as one glance downward onto the tactical table could see the few Colonial units spread throughout the solar system... and the massive Cylon fleets crowding out those symbols.

"Two problems," Adama continued. "First, _Ragnar_ is at least three days away at best speed. Second, the entire Cylon fleet is between here and there."

Saul looked down at the plotting map, trying to guess how his old friend was going to pull off this feat of navigation to bypass such a huge armada of ships... until he realized what Adama was thinking.

"You want to make a jump?" he shot the man a '_are you crazy_' look. "It's been what... twenty years since this tub made a jump?"

"Twenty-five," his superior corrected.

"Twenty-five," the Colonel nodded. "Probably rats living in the FTL relays."

"Hope not. Hate the smell of burned rat," Adama grinned before suddenly slipping back into his formal command stance. "Colonel Tigh, you will please plot a FTL jump from this position to the orbit of _Ragnar_."

"Yes, sir," Saul smiled an evil smirk of utter fun. "You know, I'm pretty sure this qualifies as a combat jump."

"I'll be sure to put everyone up for their silver wings," they both share a wry look, before the Colonel moved back toward navigation.

"Engineering, Combat. Please spin up FTL drives one and two," he said into the phone he snatched from the short side of the CIC before slamming it back down. "Mister Gaeta! Break out the FTL tables and warm up the computers... we're making a jump!"

Surprise and excited looks extended throughout the CIC as no one could quiet believe what they were hearing. For once the terrible atmosphere of defeat started to break away.

It all ended when Dualla approached with a handful of white messages and a bandage wrapped around her head.

"Priority message, sir," she announced as she delivered the print outs.

She didn't have to guess what it was as Adama's face began to tighten.

"Admiral Nagala's dead," the announcement was for no one and everyone as it rang out in the CIC. "The _Battlestar Atlantia's_ been destroyed."

Everything in the room came to a stop, quiet suddenly reigning over everything.

"So's the _Triton_, the _Solaria_, the _Columbia_, the _Vesta_..." he noticed a few heads go down, including his tactical officer, Felix dropping his head for a second as the last name was read off. "The list goes on..."

A quiet beat as the new sank in.

"Who's senior officer? Who's in command?" Tigh said after a pause before realizing why the message had been directed towards this ship. "Guess we're gonna have to postpone your retirement party..."

"Dualla," Adama called out to the communication specialist. "Send the following message to all Colonial military units. Use the priority one channel. Message begins, I am taking command of the Fleet..."

* * *

Another _Raider_ swooped down on the spaceport, its fat red bullets raining into the superstructure of the main fueling tower and striking pay dirt when the entire facility exploded into a plume of violent white fire. The ground shuddered as everywhere screams filled the air.

He dodged through the crowds in the cramped corridors and counted himself lucky that his broad shoulders and towering stature gave him some advantage of the mass of terrified souls.

"Daddy," the little girl on his hip tightened her hands around his neck. "What is going on?"

"Nothing, baby," he tried to sound as assured as possible to keep her calm. "Here we go... move!"

He pressed his way through the halls, trying to shield his daughter from seeing the terrified and anguished people that lined the walls. The ground heaved under his feet but still he managed to shove and push his way to the end of the narrow corridor, through the triangular arch and into the cockpit.

"Here we go," he mumbled quickly as he breathed a sigh of relief inside the starkly empty room, slowly depositing the child onto the floor. "Just stay here and wait for daddy to finish."

"Good thing you're here, O'Neill," Charlie Sisko shouted from the copilot station. "Mission Control, this is _Cybele_. We are ready to fly!"

Through the dust caked windows, O'Neill could see the space-yard was under heavy fire. Plumes from broken fuel pipes spouted like hellfire geysers and the towering launch booms were broken and laid shattered on the ground. Overhead civilian starships scattered into the air like scared pigeons and the hornet stinging _Raiders_ buzzed about them, picking off those to slow to run.

"_Cybele, this is Mission Control_," the haggard voice of an air controller crackled voer the speakers. "_You are at T-minus four minutes and counting. Scylla you are clear for launch_!"

_"Roger Control_!" another ship acknowledged as O'Neil could distinctly see one of their sister ships on a neighboring pad begin to rise into the air. "_Launching_!"

As the _Scylla_ began its departure a towering cruise liner began to rise on the horizon. It was one of the newer Intersun vessels, a towering blue ship that looked like an upturned whale, the tight white letters '_Sierra Dauntless_' scrolling down its side.

It would have look like a legendary blasted off, if not a moment after it had cleared the lowest cloud did a string of _Raiders_ flanked the vessel. Her entire port side erupted in multiple fires and one of her five sub-light engines was cleanly severed, without its support the ship quickly began to topple back towards the ground.

O'Neill didn't need to see anymore to know what was coming for the poor souls onboard.

"We don't have time," he slide into the pilot's chair and quickly began to begin his preflight checks. "We're retracting lines now. External fuel pressure to zero. Powering main drive systems."

"We have only been supplied with 25-percent of our total fuel," Charlie shouted. "If we launch now we won't have enough thrust to break the atmosphere. We need at least 53% to lift-off."

"I don't intend to waste our fuel trying to break the atmosphere," O'Neill grumbled as he brought up comms. "Control, main drive systems to on line status. Preparing for departure."

"_Cybele, you are not cleared for lift-off_," the launch technician shouted over the wireless. "_You are not to launch!"_

"What are you doing?" Sisko wondered out loud. "We are an unarmed freighter, either way we're a sitting duck on the ground or in the air... but not if we jump right out of the battle zone.

"You want to make an in-atmosphere jump. That's frakking nuts!"

"Got any better suggestions with half a tank of fuel and being fired upon!" O'Neill shouted back at the man.

"Charging up the navigation computer," he said after a brief pause, "spinning up FTL drive."

The engines on the back of the craft fired up in nuclear fury and with their force, they quickly began to break from the thick gravity of _Gemenon_, rising skyward.

"We have lift off," Charlie confirmed, even as the ground began to pull away and the clouds began to drop towards them.

"Plotting escape trajectory," O'Neill confirmed as he brought the ship up and over the yards, trying to keep the nose of the ship up from seeing the burning infrastructure below, only made to look like glowing forests in the dark night.

A proximity alarm began to squeal in the darkened cockpit, causing them all to jump.

"We have _Raiders_ inbound," Charlie announced as the dradis screens began to light up. "Eta to interception two minutes!"

The clouds began to part, as only the black empty filled with an array of stars began to fill the viewport.

"We are clearing gravity threshold," Sisko stared at the tiny icon rising over his screen. "Spinning up FTL drive sequence... two bogeys inbound still!

"Boosters disengaged," O'Neill spoke, his words distant in the heated cockpit. "Drive is at 80% charge."

The ship took a violent pitch, both men had to brace themselves as the ship rocked from side to side.

"Hit! We're hit!" Sisko shouted, as he wrapped a seatbelt over his shoulder. "Hull integrity holding but they're coming around for another pass!"

"Jump drives charged," O'Neill announced. "But the navigation computer isn't functioning."

"We don't have an coordinates programmed yet," his copilot protested. "If we jump now who the frak knows where we'll end up!

"If we don't jump now we'll end up plowed into the ground instead," he shot right back at him with a deadly glare.

Any more argument was finished as another alarm began to scream in the small compartment.

"They're coming around again!" Sisko shrieked as his dradis screen began to fill with incoming enemy fighters.

"Jump!"

* * *

"Hit the dirt!"

Sam's call went up into the air, as a second later the first _Raider_ let lose a stream of bullets.

Twenty hot rounds flew towards the ground, four hit home. Two of the male players racing towards Kai were on the ground, not moving as dark black holes spotted their chest. Another two bodies, hiding in the underbrush, were unlucky enough to get caught in the secondary shots of the fighters.

He was up in a second, about to race towards his down and injured companions without a second thought, when a hand sudden wrenched him back to the ground. Turning his head Sam was astounding that the strong, tight hand keeping him firmly in his place was none other than Sue-Shaun.

"No!" she gasped, her eye's staring at him with blinding fire.

"I can't leave them out there!" he protested against her but still she held him tight.

"NO!" she reiterated.

"I have to do something!" he couldn't believe her, nothing within his mind could grasp abandoning these people.

"They're coming back," Sue-Shaun pointed skyward, to the two _Raiders_ that were slowly arcing back towards their position. "We are all gonna die if we don't move."

"We-"

Her hand was on the back of his collar, hauling him back against his shouts and screams of protest but still held fast and forced him along.

"Move, move, move!" her voice echoed through the forest as those members of the strike team quickly began to abandon their positions to retreat to safety. "Everybody back! Let's go. Move out, move out, move out. Go, go, go, go, go!"

The Cylon _Raider_ was coming around for another strafing run on them but Sam still continued to look back... back at the bodies laying on the ground... at the mess he had made...

* * *

"_Gemenon Liner 1701, this is Colonial Heavy 798. No... strike that," _the wireless cut for just a second as a pause held in the wireless air. "_This is Colonial One_."

A little smile played on Russo's lips as he shot a look back at Laura who seemed a little bit embarrassed by the change.

"We have you in sight," the man continued into his headset as he pressed the throttle towards the drifting cruise liner before them. "Will approach your starboard docking hatch."

"_Copy that, Colonial One_," a relieved voice came in over the wireless. "_And thank the Lords of Kobol you're here. We've been without main power for over two-hours now."_

Behind him a buzzer went off in the back of the cockpit, Captain Apollo was quick to head back and receive the incoming printout as it drilled itself out of the machine.

"What is it?" Laura asked as the man suddenly went a little tense from what he read.

"To all Colonial units," he read out-loud. "I am taking command of fleet. All non-engaged units ordered to rendezvous at _Ragnar Anchorage_ for regroup and counterattack. Acknowledge by same encryption protocol. Adama."

Laura took the print out, gave it a once over before handing it back to the Captain.

"Captain Apollo," the woman announced in a terse but official voice that surprised even Apollo, "send a message to Commander Adama informing him that we're engaged in rescue operations and require his assistance. Ask how many hospital beds they have available and how long it will take them to get here."

"I, uh..." he hesitated for a second, reluctant to tell her something before he finally confessed. "I'm not sure he's going to respond very well to that request."

"Tell him," Laura pressed on without concern, "this comes directly from the President of the Colonies and it's not a request."

"Yes, sir," he accepted as she turned to leave. "And uh, sir? Apollo's just my call sign. My name is Lee. Lee Adama."

"I know who you are," she grinned back at him as she made her exit. "But Captain Apollo has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

* * *

Another mushroom cloud rose on the horizon, a sickening black mound that was all that remained from the city that probably just stood there.

It was south of the base, probably the seaside villages of Hebesor Port Piasui had been hit.

He had never been there but he had heard they were lovely little towns with lovely people.

Now they were all dead.

They were lucky here; the anti-missile systems at Fort Brampton were one of the top weapon arrays in the Colonies. With their integrated computer systems they could easily target and shot down any incoming Cylon nukes.

Unfortunately the shortcoming of the system only allowed it to cover the immediate ten kilometers of airspace around the facility and twenty kilometers up into the troposphere... that meant the nearby Piasui twenty miles away and Hebes fifty miles beyond here were outside her defensive fire.

The ground shuddered under Colonel Corban and the wind carried the smell of burnt ash.

Probably the death groans of some great city minutes before.

Turning back into the command bunker he found men and women of all ages rushing about, compiling reports, shouting orders and all around doing their jobs. He was proud to call them his officers but concerned that most of them were never meant to see a war like this in their generation.

After the loss of _Picon Fleet Command, Rhapsody Station, _the _Fleet Hub_ at _Gemenon_ and now Caprica City, the military command structure was in ruins. Though Admiral Nagala had assumed direct command of the fleet and the Secretary of Education had been sworn in after President Adar's nuclear demise, the amount of Cylon jamming in orbit meant they had no idea if the either was still alive.

Hell they couldn't even send or receive messages beyond their immediate atmosphere, the Colonies could all be gone by now.

"Sir, I have eight _Raptors _and one heavy passenger lifter inbound from Ceau, they report wounded!" someone called out for his attention, a young woman with sandy blonde hair and crystal blue eyes.

Corban was genuinely surprised, Ceau was on the southern edge of the continent, just around the Weod Sea… and among one of the first cities nuked in the Cylon's opening volley.

"Route them to hanger 12!" he shot back.

Even if they were a military base, Corban couldn't leave hundreds of terrified civilians out in the wilderness. Merely an hour after the first nuke fell civilians began to swarm the gates looking for safety. To deny them would mean a riot, resources he could ill afford to waste on quelling an enraged and desperate crowd.

He had reluctantly allowed all three of the surround hamlets to move most of their people into the unused hangers along the Fort Brampton's north side. Unless they had anything bigger then a shuttle they wouldn't need those massive buildings, let the civilians use them as they see fit.

"Evac Group eta two minutes..." the woman's voice trailed off suddenly as the bleating of the dradis console caught her attention. "Sir, I have three... no make that seven enemy contacts flanking our _Raptor_!"

"Retarget anti-aircraft batteries 9, 12 and 18 for full interception fire!" he roared, eyes glued to the dradis screen as the icon of the _Raptor_ began to accelerate as seven violently red triangles races after it.

"They are too far out!" his second in command, Corporal Peter Ottoman yelled. "They're not going to make it!"

And sure enough the tailing icons began to advance ever closer and closer, overtaking the Colonial markers. What surprised Corban however was when one of the _Raptors_ suddenly broke from the group.

He nearly cursed the pilot for his cowardice to abandon his fellow officers… until the small ship swung back and right into one of the Cylon contacts.

Both registered in the same position for just a second before they disappeared… most likely reduced to a formless fireball in the sky.

"How many people were onboard that ship?" Corban asked his voice as deflated as the mood was in the command bunker.

"A pilot, two rescue workers and nine civilians..." the officer who originally called out the ship's approach repeated.

Before anyone in the command bunker could register the sudden kamikaze attack, another two _Raptors_ broke point and repeated the same maneuver. The _Raiders_ however had caught on and one ship disappeared long before it could reach its target. The other however found purchase and another enemy icon disappeared from the dradis feed.

"What the hell are they doing?" Ottoman cursed as fourth _Raptor_ broke from the formation and went after another _Raider, _both disappearing a second later.

"They're protecting the heavy lifter," Corban surmised. "How many people are abroad?"

"Sixty-two," the communication tech reported. "But a ship that size should be carrying six-hundred."

"Why would a ship that big be carrying so few people and so worth protecting?" Peter wondered as the larger contact continued to accelerate towards the base.

"Obviously one of person in the group is worth it," he agreed with his subordinate.

"Cylon Raiders will be entering weapon's range in ten-seconds," another female technician declared from the far end of the command bunker. "Cylons are peeling off."

"Guess they don't want to chance it with three Raiders," Corban nodded. "Route the Raptors to the med-wing and have the heavy lifter land at launch pad one. I want to meet whoever is worth so many lives."

Without looking back for confirmation, Corban was already moving out through the short access plank that connected the command bunker with the primary landing pad, a short catwalk that Ottoman followed him onto.

As they approached a tubular like ship came into a swing landing into the port, its bright red-strips flanking it as the craft lined itself up with the oval pad and touched the ground with a roar kiss.

Already there was a gangplank descending and a man was taking the steps two at a time to reach them.

"Sirs," the man offered them a limp salute though they gave him the benefit of the doubt considering his business suit was stained with sweat and blood. "Derek Gardner, Chief of Staff to Vice President Leipziger. We are just glad we made it two you in one piece."

"Colonel Corban," he offered his hand in a customary salute, even if the man wasn't military.

"Corporal Ottoman," Peter shot him a confused look as he saluted the man also. "Vice President Leipziger? I thought the President and his cabinet were lost when the Cylons hit Caprica City."

"The Vice President was on a surprise trip to _Gemenon_," Gardner quickly supplied, "to attend the testing of a civilian science experiment at the Nadal Academy. Due to security reasons we didn't reveal the nature of the trip to anyone until we were off the ground this morning… we were just about to break atmosphere when Caprica City was hit."

"Gods," Corban muttered under his breath at the timing, "you must have just been outside the blast zone."

"But not outside of the EMP-field," Gardner rattled off in panic. "We lost our main navigation relay to the pulse and had to divert to Ceau. We were on the ground less than an hour before the Cylons hit the city too. Been using the fog cover over Lymari harbor to make a long swing towards Brampton since noon today."

A sudden burst of static over the ear piece in his ear nearly caused the man to jump out of his skin but a second later he was quickly whispering into a small microphone attached to the side of his lapel.

"I'm sorry to make this short," Derek said after a beat. "But the Vice President wants to see you as soon as possible."

Looking back up the gangplank, both men followed the gaze of the Chief of Staff in time to notice the descent of a thin, primped and quaff looking man striding down the steps to them, followed in close succession but a group of disheveled looking aides. Considering the man seemed absolutely calm and prepared surrounded by a group of people at their wits end was a stark comparsion.

"Gentleman," he saluted them and both officers were quick to do the same. "It's good to see a familiar face finally."

"Same to you, Mister Vice President," Corban nodded. "But I suggest we move inside to discuss the situation. Out in the open, nexted to a fully fueled starship in a warzone is not the best option."

"As I agree Colonel," Leipziger nodded. "Lead the way."

Back along the connector they went, quickly entering the cramped and much darker command bunker and leaving behind the bright skies outside. None of them tried to notice the sudden whispers among the lowly techs and enlisted at the sight of the Vice President entering their command center.

"So I guess my first question is how bad is it?" Leipziger wasted no times on the pleasantries and cut right to the chase.

"We can confirm the complete destruction of most of our orbital installations," Corban announced, as he pointed towards several of the still active maps they had of high orbit, taking particular time to point out the bright red '_X_'s placed over several points in Caprican orbit. "We know _Rhapsody Station_ was taken out in the first volley along with a good deal of the orbital defense grid. _Oline Station, Bathe Anchorage _and the _Hoppock Shipyards_ have also been asserted as lost. Eighteen of the defense satellites were online as of our last update but running low on ammunition and running high on damage."

"Eighteen?" Leipziger was nearly dumbfounded by the number. "We just approved funding to upgrade all three-hundred satellites last year. How did we lose so many so quick."

"Unknown," Corban shrugged in honesty. "Cylons jumped inside the defense grid's airspace and past the orbital pickets long before we knew what was happening. _Rhapsody_ was downed in the first two-minutes, the First Battlegroup led by the _Battlestar Yashuman _engaged twenty-minutes later, Caprica City was hit thirty minutes after the first incursion… they knew exactly where to go and what to hit long before they got here."

"Frakking damnit," Leipziger cursed under his breath. "Well I'd like to have a direct line established to any units we have left. With Adar gone I'll need to immediately assume command now that I'm the President."

"Ah," Ottoman's mouth dropped open and closed a few times, obviously a bit confused.

"Sir," Corban said slowly, trying to gauge how the Vice President was going to react. "I don't know how to tell you this but you're not the President."

"What are you talking about?" his eyes narrowed at the pair.

"When the Cylons hit Caprica City and we knew the President was dead the Secretary of Civil Defense activated a Case Orange alert," Corban explained in detail. "Secretary of Education Laura Roslin was the highest ranking member of the cabinet that answered at the time."

"They thought you were still in the city like you were supposed to be when it was nuked," Ottoman tried to offer to the conversation.

"Well then we have to contact Secretary Roslin," Leipziger quickly established towards the two, "and inform her she has been relieved of her position. I'll need a direct line to her as soon as possible."

"I'm sorry sir," Peter tried to make clear, "but that's going to take some time. As far as we know she was sworn in and began to coordinate evacuation efforts from orbit… that was until the Cylons threw up a jamming field all over _Caprica_."

"Everything beyond the stratosphere is blank to use," Corban added.

"Then she could be dead for all we know and power reverts back to me," Leipziger observed, his mention of '_dead'_ and '_power'_ however managed to leave Corban unnerved.

They however never got to discuss it any further an alarm began scream.

"Sirs!" Ottoman's voice broke the sudden silence, "enemy fighters are advancing on the base."

"All batteries on full dispersion fire," he announced, "nothing gets through!"

"Executing!" an unidentified voice confirmed.

The walls of the bunker rattled as more then forty ground cannons filled the air above Fort Brampton with enough weapon's fire to be seen from orbit.

Two _Raiders_ strafed to the west, coming in low under the battery's firing solution. One took a round to its port wing, the craft spiraled out from the loss of it aerodynamic design before plowing head first into the landing tarmac.

Its companion dislodged two missiles before succumbing as well, a fountain of fire blasting her into thousands of tiny smoking bits.

Corban had to keep his footing as a loud explosion deafened the entire bunker, thankful that this facility had proven itself capable of sustaining such hit at today least twice before.

"Damage report?" he ordered.

"They hit air control tower three!" Ottoman confirmed followed by a quick breath of relief. "No one was inside."

"I should head back to my ship," Leipziger observed as he started to depart. "My pilots will be shout be able to break atmosphere now that they've had time to repair the damage."

"I doubt that, sir," Corban acknowledged with a frown. "Moment our defense grid went online the air above the base was filled with flak fire. You lift off now and you'll be shot down by either the Cylons or us in no time."

"Then shut down the field 'til gone," Leipziger growled.

"Sir?" Corban looked back at him, for a moment a bit confused and even more so affronted to the man's words. "Are you really suggesting that we deactivate the defenses of this military base, which is currently housing several hundred civilians, not counting its standard staff of two-hundred, just so that you can fly out of an active battle zone."

"No, I was-"

"They're coming around for another pass!" Ottoman roared.

Five more _Raiders_ rushed in, a wing of three and a pair of two racing in from the north and south sides of the facility. Three anti-aircraft batteries cycled and locked their sights, removing another two _Raiders_ from the sky and damaging another enough to force it to retreat.

Two left and they weren't going down without a fight.

Holding close to the ground they raced over the flat concrete of one of the landing strips Brampton sported. They were almost successful in completing bypassing the defense grid of the base until one of the weapons batteries got off a lucky shot.

It grazed the forward _Raider_ just barely, not enough to destroy her or severally damage it but enough to push it off course... and directly into its comrade.

The two spun in a fiery display, somehow their wings had become interlocked during their collision and they rolled in a turmoil trying to break free.

A deadly dance that ended when both blinded and out of control ships slammed into the side of one of the largest buildings on Fort Brampton outside the command bunker.

Tylium fuel and kinetic force made the destruction total as the entire eight story structure collapse and imploded, fire arching high into the sky as internal explosions ripped her apart.

In a matter of seconds only one thing remained standing, the doorway to the building had somehow come out of the disaster intact. Even the words above her frame were only slightly burn... '_Network Command_' was almost readable.

"Main batteries are offline!" some yelled in both alarm and terror.

"Those last two fighters collided with the Network Command building," Corporal Ottoman summarized. "We've lost all automated control of the system."

"Switch to manual!" Corban ordered.

"Sir, without the missile defense system being networked it would take too long to triangulate incoming ordinance and shoot it down," Ottoman countered. "Orbital _Basestars_ fire enough nukes and something is going to get through!"

For a while he held his breath, not wanting to utter the final order.

"Order a general evacuation order," Corban muttered, "get everyone below ground. Mister Vice President I suggest you follow."

"A great idea, Colonel," Leipziger nodded but for some reason Corban didn't like his tone. "However I will be heading back to my ship. We have to get the Colonials fighting again under the democratic leader of the Colonial government."

"Very well," Corban had no intention of stopping the man, if he wanted to die pointlessly, it was his choice.

Already he was gone, Corban made an about face and marched from the command bunker. Already his command was in effect, officers grabbing whatever they could carry and rushing to the below ground bomb shelters. Already the alarms were sounding, everyone was moving.

Corban had something more important though.

* * *

"_...eavy 7... Gal... ca... read_?" a woman's voice cut through the static, broken and lost for a moment before coming back after a second, this time clearer. "..._nial One, Galactica. We read you. Galactica Actual wishes to speak with Apollo_."

Lee snatched the headset from atop the dashboard and fitted it over his ears without even asking Russo sitting beside him if it was alright.

"This is Apollo," he acknowledged after depressing down the talk button. "Go ahead actual."

There was a pause as the device was passed over on the other-side, a little bit of fumbling before a deep, baritone voice sounded in the speaker in his ears.

"_Are you..." _there was a pause as the man thought it out for a moment. "_Is your ship all right?_"

"We're both fine," he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, the hate in his stomach roiling up. "Thanks for asking."

It came out a lot more sarcastic and cutting then he wanted to but for some reason it felt good.

"_Is your ship's FTL drive functioning_?" his father's voice was cold, unfeeling and unnerving.

Lee glanced to his side, knowing that regardless Captain Russo was listening in on the entire exchange. A quick nod from him and Lee had his answer.

"That's affirmative," he confirmed into his mic.

"_Then you're ordered to bring your ship and its passengers to the rendezvous point,_" the man stated it not as an acceptance or concession but an order. "_Acknowledge_."

He waited a long moment, holding his words in his mouth and wondering what was the best thing to say.

"Acknowledge..." he ground at the words, "receipt of message."

"_What the hell does that mean_?" the Commander wheezed.

"It means I heard you," he hissed out. "We're engaged in rescue operations."

"_You are ordered to abort your mission_," the man rasped. "_Proceed to Ragnar immediately_."

"The President has given me a direct order-"

"_You mean the Secretary of Education_?" he was cut off by an unbelieving tone. "_We're in the middle of a war and you want to take orders from a school teacher_?"

"President Roslin..." he gave a short lull as he choose the right route this conversation could go in, "would like to know what is your estimated time of arrival and how many hospital beds you have?

"_Are you serious?" _the anger started to rise on the other end._ "I am giving you a direct order. If you do not complete it I will have you court-martialed for dereliction of duty_!"

"And are you," Apollo tried to keep his fury under control as he spoke through clenched teeth, "refusing a request from the rightful Command and Chief of the Twelve Colonies?"

"_If you_-"

The words died in static and then it was gone, lost in the worthless white wash of oblivion.

"What happened?" he shot a glance over to Russo beside him, who was quickly working his station over.

"Cylons pushed up their jamming... we're blind again," he answered, turning to shot a concerned glance at the officer. "Should we... jump to _Ragnar_?"

"No, we continue with the President's orders for the time being..."

* * *

"_Starbuck, Galactica_," Dualla's voice chirped in over the wireless inside the dark cockpit. "_Three enemy contacts identified as fighters now bearing 220-015. Speed seven decimal four..._"

"Copy that, _Galactica_," the pilot acknowledged as she banked her _Viper_ in low over the _Battlestar's_ bow and out into the empty space beyond. "We have good targets. Starbuck out."

Rolling her helmet from side to side, she watched as the other Vipers of her squadron pulled into place around her, each one pointing their bows forward and vaulting out into the endless void before them without pause or concern.

"All right, listen up," she shouted into her comms. "Stay with your wingman, keep your interval and remember your training. The Cylons weren't counting on having to do any dog fighting today, so I don't think they're quite ready for this. On my mark, kick in your burners. Three, two, one, mark."

The afterburners slammed them back into their seats, throwing them back under the force of several gravities and thrusting their ships forward at break neck speeds.

"Here they come..." Starbuck gritted her teeth against the terrible force on her bodies as her ship rocketed towards the approaching wing of Cylon _Raiders_. "Ready... WHAT THE FRAK!"

* * *

"Are you okay?"

He slowly turned his head to the side, trying to focus on the person standing in the doorway, trying to see who was standing before him.

It was Sue-Shaun, her face clouded with concern.

"You know," he whispered under his breath, "even robots take their dead."

"There was nothing..." she tried to bring some reason to the situation but even now it was escaping her.

"I don't know what I'm doing!" he shouted at her, long before she could come up with some excuse.

"We need you," she mumbled, almost not believing it herself. "Please."

"No," Sam shook his head, unwilling to give in. "You need a leader, someone you can unite behind. Someone to tell you what to do, when to bleed... I don't want to see anyone else's blood."

"So just walking away?" Sue-Shaun kept her tone even but her body still shook in anger.

"I can't be what these people want," he shrugged. "I'll never be that and I don't want to be. The best thing I can do is leave, stop leading them to die."

A pack hit him in the chest and for once he was awake and staring at the young woman before him.

"Then lets go," she shouted. "You want to find yourself, well then its me whose going to led your frakking ass to find some salvation. Now move..."

* * *

Another nuke crashed into the asteroid's surface, sending rock and metal splashing off into space.

Commandant Alexander Masterson had to fight to keep his footing as the deck seemed to dip and roll. Several others inside the command bunker were not too lucky, as a young cadet who's neck was bent to an impossible angle now laid on the floor.

"Redirect all batteries to full offensive barrage!" he echoed over the room, dozens of officers manning stations responded to his command. "Have the _Battlestars_ follow suit!"

On command another nuke struck the northern pole of the station and Alexander could see the _Basestars_ were still bearing down on his station through the bunkers external dradis feeds.

_Moonlight_ was a beehive of activity since the initial Cylon attack. Thankfully they had just finished refitting the _Battlestars_ _Ialysos, Tyras, Dyme _and _Baris_ when the first _Raiders_ jumped in so their defenses were bristling. When the first wave had only suceeded in taking out their long-range communication systems and exterior cargo bays a second wave had brought more fighters and ten _Basestars_.

Heavy damage had been taken to _Moonlight_ _Station_ but they were still in the fight while the Cylons were down two _Basestars_.

"_Battlestars_ confirm," a lieutenant acknowledged, "all batteries to full power."

"Execute!"

Over fifty kinetic cannons from _Moonlight_ and ten from each of the _Mercury_-class _Battlestars_ raced across the void. Several were intercepted by _Raiders_ and defensive fire, many missed as their targets went evasive.

Three hit their marks.

One was a kill shot.

A distant explosive of light signified enough for the bunker crew to scream and cheer, until another flash in the void quieted them.

The _Battlestar_ _Tyras_ was hit by a wave of _Raiders_, their nuclear tipped missiles roaring under their defenses and decimating the craft. Guns silent, running lights dead and rolling on its belly like a dead fish, the ship was dead and Alexander now had a hole in his defenses.

_Raiders_ surged through the breach, coasting over the asteroid and taking out ten of _Moonlight's_ eighty kinetic batteries with them. Another hole the Cylon's exploited, a pair of nukes hitting just south of the command bunker and breaking a chunk of the planetoid off.

"Damage report!" he yelled, already knowing it was going to be bad.

"Sixteen cannons down," an unseen woman yelled. "Secondary docking bay 9 destroyed, eighteen _Vipers_ and three _Raptors_ gone and radiation has flooded tiers thirteen through twenty."

It was bad.

An entire hemisphere of the station was open for attack, a _Battlestar_ was down and he had over twenty thousand people huddled below this bunker counting on him.

But his experiences during the last Cylon War and seven years in command of this post alone told him this was a lost battle.

Retreat may not be an option for him but he wasn't a stupid man.

Going out in a blaze of glory was a waste of materials and good officers. Best to use them for some real good.

"Order _Ialysos_ and _Dyme_ to pull back," Masterson commanded. "Set all batteries to rotating defensive fire. _Baris_ is to jump to standby coordinates. Activate Phoenix."

"_Activating Phoenix... repeat activating Phoenix..._" a comm. tech reported over the loudspeaker, "_civies report go. Baris has jumped_."

"Alright people," the Commandant announced. "Phoenix Rising."

Since the first strike by the Cylon _Raiders_ several hours ago, Commandant Masterson knew they were going to besieged and the chances of reinforcements were slim. With their long-range communication gone and hours ticking by Alexander knew the Fleet probably thought the station was destroyed in the opening wave of the attack.

Alexander could hold out, go out in a blaze of glory by bleeding the Cylons for ships that would have continued on to the Colonies.

If _Moonlight_ _Station_ had been a military outpost he would have done so without a second thought.

But _Moonlight_ wasn't a military outpost, it was a civilian commerce station that was administered as a free trade zone by the Colonial military.

Five-hundred of its resident were military officers, meant to act as protectors for the twenty-thousand civilians onboard.

Masterson was not about to take those people with him in death. He had taken a oath to protect them and if that meant his life, he knew what had to be done.

The moment Phoenix was ordered, _Moonlight's_ main docking bay opened and eighteen civilian ships broke and ran. _Raiders_ raced after them but only caught vapor trails as each jumped to safety.

A towering _Argo-Liner_, its green domes dotting its hull, detached from an external docking port and pushed away from its moorings. Not even waiting to reach safe distance it kicked its FTL drives online and flashed out of existence.

Everything from transport liners to garbage haulers was being thrown out, stuff to the breaking point with people.

The mad dash of thirty ships was covered by the _Dyme_ and _Ialysos,_ both ships sacrificing their defensive fire in order to play angels to their charges. _Dyme_ took a hit astern, a sub-light engine shattering under impact.

Yet they continued to hold vigil.

"_Dion_ confirmed jumped... _Rhodes_ confirmed jumped..." a dradis officer sounded off. "All civilians are gone."

"Give the order for _Ialysos_ and _Dyme_ to pull back," Alexander said. "Set all cannons to auto fire and start pulling our people out."

The officers knew the next step of their plan, setting their stations to computer control and marching towards the door. Three decks below an Intersun liner, the _Argolis_, was holding for them.

But Commandant Masterson was not following.

As the last soldier rushed from the room Alexander began to set to work. The kinetic cannons continue to fire, even as the gunners that ran them abandon their posts. A few lucky shots were scored but in all they were simply meant to keep the enemy at bay, buying the crew time to evacuate.

All but one…

Looking towards the dradis console as he worked, Alexander watched as the _Argolis_ soared out of the main docking bay, disappearing in a FTL jump. It was followed a short while later by the _Ialysos_ and a critically damaged _Dyme_.

The seven remaining _Basestars_ pressed inward, pushing the field of fire back further and further. Even if the Colonials were abandoning the station, it had to be removed to ensure it didn't help to further contest this region. The Cylons had neither the resources nor personnel to staff the facility or the ships to hold it.

Better to destroy it outright and move on.

And that was the key for Alexander's trap.

"_Warning, reactor temperature is rising_," a nearby station sounded. "_Critical failure in one minute_. _Please enact safeties-_"

The Commandant hit a two keys.

"_Safeties have been disengaged,"_ the computer chirped._ "All crews are advised to abandon the station... repeat abandon station..."_

_Basestars_ pressed in, _Raiders_ rushed over _Moonlight's_ surface, fire raged over most of the station.

Little was left for the Commandant to do.

But now his people were safe, the civilians onboard were safely gone. _Moonlight_ now had one occupant, it was now a military station.

It was time for the final stand.

"_Reactor temperature is critical_," the alarm sounded, "_overload... overload..._"

The first reactor detonated, swallowing the core of _Moonlight_ _Station_ in light. The neighboring two reactors dissolved under the pressure, adding their own energy.

Alexander only felt the bunker vibrant a bit and then nothing...

_Moonlight_ seemed to bulge outward, fire blasting from every opening it could find.

But it wasn't enough.

A shockwave washed outward, vaporizing everything for several hundred kilometers.

Even with their heavy armor, the _Basestars_ dissolved like dust in the solar wind...

* * *

The first _Raider_ exploded after one hit, the other one survived barely a second longer as the terrible onslaught of three other fields of fire smashed the craft out of the way and into a billion tiny pieces.

It was a perfect kill... too bad her squadron never fired a shot.

"_...his is Ripper to Galactica_," a voice cracked through the wireless static, a voice Kara knew. "_Does everyone read me. This is Ripper to Galactica, anybody home_?"

"Ripper?" she activated her comms. "Is that you? We thought we lost you guys over _Caprica_."

_"Almost did_," the man grimly reported. "_But we made it through_."

Kara could distinctly see the much sleeker and deadly looking _Viper_ Mk. VII's rapidly approaching from above them... and the damage they had taken.

Wings were bent, small fires pocketed their hulls and one was even flying with a shattered cockpit canopy. It only took a quick count to notice that Ripper's squadron was six _Vipers_ less then when they had left... and no _Raptor_ altogether.

"Get your squadron back to _Galactica_," she ordered, knowing his pilots were probably been through a lot worse today then she had. "We'll discuss the rest there."

A short while later she was feeling the elevator deposit her onto the hangar bay floor with a thud. Not even waiting to be hauled over to her landing alcove, she pulled back the top of the canopy and was hitting the deck with her helmet still atop her head.

Her face was soaked in sweat; the internal heating systems in these Mk. II's were a little too good.

"Starbuck, what did you do to my _Viper_?"

She turned back to see Chief Tyrol and Cally hovering by the rear of her Viper... or the remains of it. A huge chunk was missing out of one of the three engines, probably taken out during first battle with the Cylons.

"Wondered why the engine gave out," she mumbled as she ran a hand over her wet brow.

"We gotta pull the whole mounting. Get the high-lift," he ordered the young deckhand beside him before turning back to the pilot. "How you managed to fly this thing, much less land it?"

"Not something I want to think about right now," she stripped off her flight gloves and slung them over her shoulder, flexing her fingers in the cool air of the open hangar. "Where's Prosna? He has to get that frakking gimbals locked or I'll have his ass."

The pained expression that the man gave her meant she had said something wrong, though she had no idea what.

"Dead, sir," Galen stated after a beat. "Died in the hangar venting."

"How many did we lose?" she had to ask, had to know.

"Eighty-five," the maintain explained deadpan. "Lost a lot of rooks in there."

"None of us are rooks anymore, Chief," Kara nodded, without feeling, without any emotion in her voice. "Ripper's squadron is back, leave the engine for now."

Heading off they were only a short distance to where Ripper's battered but intact _Viper_ was being lowered to the ground. Already the canopy of his ship was being pulled back and the man was stumbling out onto the wing.

Starbuck would have shouted but noticed the large crack in the faceplate of his helmet and most likely figure Ripper was practically blind and desperate to get the thing off himself.

"Starbuck," he mumbled as he ripped the broken head covering from his face, "never thought I'd be so glad to see your sorry mug again."

"Great to see you too, Ripper," she should have grinned but for some reason it didn't seem the right thing right now. "Where have you been?"

The man visibly sagged, his tense shoulder going slack and he leaned up against his _Viper's_ wing as all the tension in his body disappeared and he relaxed for the first time in hours.

"We were almost to _Caprica_ when they intercepted us," he stated bitterly. "Came right after us but we managed to put a good dent in them before the last two were driven off. We started to make a run back to _Galactica_ when we got hit again near _Pitcher's Moon_... lost Beats, Kiddy and Bingo in the opening shots."

"Frak," Starbuck mumbled.

Beats was cocky and stupid, Kiddy and Bingo were fresh rookies. None were that good but still she didn't wish them dead.

"We drove them off but one of their new _Basestars_ jumped in," Ripper explained on. "We had to set down and wait forever for the damn thing to finally pull out."

Tyrol was bouncing on his toes, starting to get antsy as he noticed the pilot was leaving out the key piece of information he was most concerned about.

"Did you..." he almost couldn't finish that sentence as he didn't want to really hear it. "Did you lose Sharon?"

"Don't know," Ripper stated, much to the other man's relief. "She had to retreat during the first engagement. I had her signal almost all the way to _Caprica_ when it cut out."

"You mean-"

"She's not dead, Chief," the man cut him off. "Well not as far as I know. Her attackers broke off and her ship was still flying for good two-minutes before her transponder went out of range. My guess is she went silent to avoid further detection."

"We better get top-side," Starbuck said. "Commander's going to want to hear this and we have the jump to _Ragnar_ in only a short while..."

* * *

The door of his office opened and immediately the woman lying on the couch jumped up to meet his arrival.

"Jim!" she exclaimed, her bright yellow sun dress a dangerous contrast to the dull military office around her. "What is going on?"

"Last wave took out our weapons grid," he explained. "We have to get below ground quickly."

Not even waiting he crossed the floor of his office, the bland carpet scuffing under his boots and gathered up his sleeping daughter.

"She's been asleep the whole time," his wife noted with a sad smile. "Hasn't made a peep."

"Good for us but we have to start moving, Wendy," he urged as he put the girl on his shoulder.

The movement was enough to jostle the girl awake and he was none too surprised as he began to march down the hall that he could hear a yawn and a wave of hot breath in his ear.

"What's going on, Daddy?" a tired voice asked, as a small hand reflexively wrapped around his neck.

"It's alright, pumpkin," he tried to keep the worry out of voice and though he commanded a base of several hundred men and women, he found it hard to keep his emotions under control when it was his daughter asking him the question.

"Just go back to sleep, honey," Wendy coaxed, running a hand through the girls long hair.

She was a military wife, Wendy knew the urgent tone in Jim's voice. Grabbing the overnight bag she had taken when they had abandoned their home and hiked to her husband's post, she fell into step behind him as they scurried through the corridors of the Fort, joining the dozens of officers and soon civilians all filling towards a single position.

Fort Brampton had been built during the height of the tensions between the Twelve Colonies, almost two decades before the Cylon War. Before the missile defense system had been constructed or taking the position as one of the largest flight training academies on _Caprica,_ this facility had been a final fall back in case the Colonial government was about to fall. Though thankfully that had never become a require contingency, the extensive yet exhausted iron mines below ground made a natural bomb shelter that Colonial engineers had been quick to reinforce.

Four decades later it was just as good.

Down the stairs of the command bunker the steel walls dissolved into bare rock, dirt churched under foot as they trudged on into the darkening cavern.

"Take Shannon," Corban handed the tiny girl over to his wife. "Follow this corridor all the way in and don't stop until the officers tell you too. I'll see you in the shelters."

Handing over the girl Wendy only gave her husband a quick kiss on the cheek, a warm hand on his shoulder and then she was dashing off into the throng of civilians shuffling deeper into the tunnels.

"Sir!" Ottoman approached his side. "It's the Vice President's ship. I think you need to come and see this."

Marching away from the line of civilians, Corban was up the hall and out onto the primary launch pad to find the Vice President, a cowardly looking Chief Gardner and a man dressed in a flight uniform arguing adamantly.

"…I'm telling you it can't be done!" the man in the flight suit threw up his hands in outrage.

"And I'm telling you I don't want excuses, I want results," Leipziger yelled as he nearly shoved the man towards the waiting craft. "Now get back onto that ship and get it flying."

"What's going on here?" Corban announced as he joined the trio and the arguing pair.

"Sir," the pilot looked him up and down as a possible ally against the Vice President. "I've been trying to explain that our jump systems are still not functional. The forward systems are not kicking in and if we try to jump there's no guarantee that the ship won't just explode on the launch pad."

"And if he doesn't want to be shot down on the launch pad," Leipziger threw his hands up in the air, "he should be doing more like fixing our ship."

"Sir," he quickly turned his attention to the almost belligerent Vice President, "if the pilot doesn't think the ship will fly maybe you should listen to him."

"I don't have to listen to anyone," Leipziger locked eyes with him and for just a second Corban knew something was horribly wrong. "With Richard Adar dead I am now the legitimate President and as the Commander in Chief I am giving you a direct order. Get my ship flying now!"

Huffing the pilot turned on his heels and marched back up the gangplank of the waiting vessel, the entire time muttering a string of curse words under his breath as he went.

"Mister Vice President," Corban sighed at the whole situation, "I don't this is a good idea at all."

"Then you'll be happy to know I don't give a frakking damn what you think," he spat before him. "I will be more then glad to be rid of your entire backwater command and-"

For a second there was a bright light, as if the sky had been switched to its brightest luminousness… a second later the aft section of the heavy passenger lifter disappeared into FTL… while the forward and midsections remained in real space.

The severing of the engines from the rest of the craft was short lived as the compounding shockwave from one portion traveling between the space and time vaporized the other. A wave of debris flew out in all directions, chunks of metal flying every which way and a scream boom deafened the world.

Corban hit the ground, thrown onto his back by the concussive wave of energy. His ear rung, his head pounded… and he tasted the copper tang in his mouth from his split lip.

Screaming was the first thing that he heard as sound began to return to the world, followed in quick succession by racing feet.

"Sir?" he found himself being hauled up by a medic. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," his head was pounding but he knew he was unhurt. "Go… do your duty."

"HELP!" it didn't take long for the young officer to find a duty.

"He's hurt bad," Derek Gardner shouted as he kneeled over an unmoving body. "Somebody help him."

The medic was already at work, hands moving over the body as he tried to assert the damage.

"What's his name?" the man asked.

"James," Derek explained. "James Leipziger. He's the Vice President!"

"Mister Gardner," Corban placed a hand on the concerned man's shoulder. "Let the medic work."

Reluctantly the Vice Presidents Chief of Staff pulled back and the doctor moved with lightening speed.

"He took a hit to his head and he most likely has internal bleeding," the medic announced as he threw and taped on bandages and gauze where it needed. "We need to get him to a medical center as soon as possible."

"No time," Corban declared him, even as Gardner looked on at him aghast. "Cylons know our defenses are down. We have minutes 'til they nuke us."

The medic nodded and motioned for two soldiers hauling a stretcher between them. Quickly they gathered up the Vice President along with those few had been injured in the ships destruction. Moving quickly, the group of soldiers, survivors and injured moved in tight formation towards their destination.

The bright sky gave way to the stark, rock walls of the underground… dark, dank and offering absolute protection.

"Seal the blast doors!" he roared the moment they were all through.

Behind him two reinforced blast doors groaned as slowly but surely they crawled towards each other. Over one hundred tons of refined metal, the strongest in the known Colonies, the doors rolled shut. They were to become their only protection from the outside world.

With a deafening boom signaling their completed journey, gauges over the door blinking green as the barrier locked into place.

"We're all clear," the same blonde haired officer from the command bunker reported from a nearby station.

"Blow the charges," he nodded.

Several strategically placed detonators timed off, each signaling they had received their orders before finally they vaporized in a brilliant display of fire. Tons of rock, dirt and soil crashed inward, sealing their only escape yet protecting those below.

"Charges blown," Ottoman confirmed. "All we have to do now... is wait..."

Above on the surface Fort Brampton sat empty, almost peaceful as the guns were silent and even the occasional bird chirped in the background... until the fifty megaton nuke detonated a mile overhead.

Fire poured out, the shock wave tearing away everything in its path as the fire scorched everything left behind.

Below ground Corban regarded the blast door, barely a vibration translated through meters of bedrock but he could feel the destruction of his command.

"Do you think we're safe?" Derek Gardner asked.

"We have eight months of food and air," Corban nodded as he headed into the shelter. "Enough time to wait for some rescue. If it ever comes..."

* * *

The hatch door rose out of the way and immediately Sharon hit the ground, tasting the musky, recycle air of the cargo bay in her lungs and for some reason finding it refreshing.

Across the deck Captain Apollo, who she knew from his short stint at the decommissioning ceremony on the _Galactica_, cross the deck with a nervous looking civilian directly behind him clutching a clipboard.

"Captain," she nodded as he approached. "I've got some very hungry and terrified survivors."

"Good work, pilot," he saluted her before casting his eyes upward to the several terrified but interested faces staring down at him. "All right, ladies and gentlemen, come on out. You're safe now. Come on, we'll get you cleaned up."

Reaching a hand up, he guided several of the children and one young woman to the ground, each one clutching his fingers hard and forceful as if they were terrified to let go.

"Excuse me," a haggard looking woman in a day suit asked as he guided her along, "my husband, he's in the Colonial Fleet on _Gemenon_."

"Your husband's in the Colonial Fleet?" Captain Apollo nodded, though he shot Boomer a confused glance.

"In the civilian support fleet," the girl eagerly asked. "Where is he?"

"Ah..." Lee fumbled for a question. "I don't know, ma'am. Could you step right this way? We'll do our best, ma'am."

He ushered her off into the care of Doral before turning back to the young pilot still standing beside her ship

"I've got two communication pods left sir," she quickly rattled off, "but that's it. No swallows, no jiggers, no drones, no markers... nothing."

"Well," Apollo gave her a smile "at least you've got a full electronic suite. That old crate of mine can barely navigate from A to B."

"That crate may have saved your life, sir," she noted.

"How's that?" Lee asked her confused.

"Colonial Fleet is spread thin as it is," Boomer explained as fast as possible. "They would have pressed her into service if she was anything better... and there are a lot of ships out there that are so old they're nothing better then distractions and shields to our few dedicated warships left."

"Yeah, great," he tried to offer up a grin but the thought of being so far out of the fight was starting to wear on him. "In the meantime the President would like to see you.

"President Adar is here?" she shot him a shocked expression.

"No," he sadly shook his head. "I'm afraid Adar is dead. President Laura Roslin was sworn in a few hours ago. Let's go."

Following after him they ascended the three flights of steps up into the first class cabin to find the before mentions woman standing with several other advisors, going over plans and discussing details in hushed tones.

"A pleasure to meet you again, Lieutenant," she smiled as she reached out and shook Boomer's hand, even if the pilot hadn't realized she had been holding it out. "We met at the decommissioning ceremony a day ago."

"Oh, sure... of course," she tried really hard but managed to still stumble over her words.

"Good," Laura smiled effortlessly. "What's your impression of the situation on the Colonies?"

Sharon was at a loss for a second, wondering what kind of answer this woman was looking for.

"From what I could see," she explained, "the Cylons appear to be systematically targeting every population center surface for nuclear attack. I doubt there's a city over a hundred thousand people they've overlooked at this point."

"And am I correct in assuming that an attack of this magnitude will trigger a world-wide nuclear winter?" Laura inquired.

"I was on _Caprica_... they took a lot of hits... count probably eight or nine impacts just from orbit when we lifted off," the young woman explained. "Fallout clouds were drifting across the major continents and altering weather patterns around the globe even now."

Laura took a step away, taking a long beat to look out the window and towards where their home was suppose to be spiraling away in the void.

"Lieutenant Valerii," she said, quietly. "I understand your ship has a limited faster-than-light capability?"

"Uh, yes sir," she winced at bit at calling the woman 'sir' but still kept talking. "The _Raptor_ was designed to make short jumps ahead of the fleet, scout for enemy ships, then jump back and report."

The President was silent for a hushed moment before finally turning back to the small group.

"We need to find as many survivors as we can," she spoke slowly but with force "As many ships as we can. And then we need to go. Go where? I don't know. Somewhere. A new home. A place to start over. Whatever future the human race has... is not here... not now..."

* * *

Her chest burned, something was pressing down on her lungs and no matter how she moved it only grew harder to breath. After a moment she gave up, knowing that she was pinned beneath some kind of wooden support beam.

The sound of crunching glass and scraping dust alerted to the fact someone was approaching but still her eyes refused to focus past the debris that held her to the ground.

"This has happened before," she moaned as the taste of copper filled her mouth. "Oh, Gods, am I gonna die?"

"No," a hand reached down, wiping the dust from her hair as calloused fingers began push the debris away. "No, your suffering isn't over yet. Not when you've got so much left to learn."

"What?" she mumbled as the weight suddenly was lifted from her chest.

A far off explosion rocked the ground under her and one of the surrounding walls gave way in a cloud of billowing smoke.

"Who are you?" she gasped, as hands drew her up and out of the rubble, slowly taking her out of the ruined building.

"_Raiders_ diving out of the light like bats," the man continued to talk as he hauled her from the destruction and out into the cracked, broken asphalt. "Nukes raining down on cities like hell-fire-"

"Please," she gulped down the fresh air, the acid taste of rising bile in her throat, "find Saul."

Another explosion rocked the ground, screams and shrieks erupted from all directions as they stumbled down the street.

"Dear Papa," the man laughed as Ellen again lost consciousness and slumped against his shoulder. "He's safe. Of the five that created all the rest of us, all of you somehow managed to survive our plan. It's amazing if stublely disconcerting."

She only mumbled incoherently, her body going limp against his own.

"Does it seem cruel that I'm keeping you alive?" he mumbled as a distant siren began to grow in volume. "It is cruel. Who am I kidding? But it's also necessary. For 30-years, you failed to observe the moral failures of humanity, against whom you find me lacking. Get better, Mother. Open your eyes and take a gander at what you think you love."

She barely acknowledged him, limply she tried to rub her eyes but failed as her hand absently swatted at her nose.

Onward they trudged, staggering through the broken and destroyed city, across the cracked and cratered streets as over head _Vipers_ and _Raiders_ engaged in dogfights.

A white coated _Raptor_ rolled in above them, its engines kicking up a wall of dirt and dust as the ship came in for a landing.

"Ah looks like our ride has arrived," he grinned as his escorted quarry fought to keep her footing upright.

The _Raptor_ hit the ground a little hard, its skids grinding on the crumbled asphalt as it came to a stop, a moment later its hatch popped open and three civilian rescue workers were bounding out to meet them.

"Sir," the nearest one arrive, quickly examining Ellen who was starting to lose consciousness, "are you alright."

"Just fine, son," he tried to suppress a smile on his lips as the man relieved him of his baggage as they were ushered towards the waiting _Raptor_.

Staggering up on the wing, Ellen quickly took her seat in the back without any question of where to sit, quickly passing out against the side of the dradis station as exhaustion overtook her.

But as the rescue worker turned back he noticed the man had not joined them.

"Aren't you coming?" he shouted as the aged fellow began to walk off in the distance.

"No," he called out. "I have to find other parents... take care of my mother... I'll be visiting her soon enough.'

Before any more questions or answers could be exchanged the _Raptor's_ hatch slammed closed and the roar of the engines drown out everything else.

Turning back to the woman they had rescued he snatched a rag and a bottle of water, setting to work to wipe away the caked blood around the woman's mouth.

"ETA to our arrival?" he shouted to the pilot.

"_Olympic Carrier_ reports its getting dicey up there," the woman shouted back. "We have to break off our search now and dock or she'll have to leave us behind."

"Alright," he nodded. "Get us into orbit as quick as you can..."

* * *

In the space above _Caprica_ a convoy of ships floated in the void.

A caravan of ships all alone in the night.

Mining vessels, supply transports, commercial liners, even a prison ship, more than ninety ships from all over the Colonies had banded together for mutual safety and survival.

Among these was on ship in particular, a massive beast that made all others around her a pebble to the mountain.

The _Botanical Cruiser_ was an _Argo-Liner_ designed as the ultimate long term vacation ships across the Colonies. A liner designed as a space-going equivalent to a contemporary cruise ship, built for pleasure and recreation, the _Botanical Cruiser_ was a large vessel, almost haft the size of a _Colombia_-class _Battlestar_, with numerous transparent domes which allowed for a glorious view of the stars beyond from the sprawling artificial park complete with grass, trees, softly rolling hills beneath the barrier.

At the moment the park was crowded with passengers, who had gathered together and provide comfort in numbers.

Laura and Captain Fraizer of the _Botanical Cruiser_ made their way through the crowd, Billy was right behind her trying to take notes of their conversation for later on.

"Most of the passengers are from _Gemenon _or _Picon_," Fraizer explained as they moved through the throngs of people, "but we've got people from all over the Colonies. Over five-thousand in all."

Laura nodded at his assessment.

The _Botanical Cruiser_ had become the most vital ship in their growing civilian convoy following its discovery wandering over _Gemenon_. Not only was she the largest and most populated vessel they had found so far the food stores she could provide to the thousands of starving people could be critical to their survival if the projections of the expanding nuclear winter on the Colonies was true.

"Give Billy a copy of your passenger manifest," she instructed as Roslin took careful notice at the number of despairing people she found standing around her, "and a list of your emergency supplies."

"What about our power situation?" the captain insisted, pressing their most urgent issue. "Our batteries are starting to run pretty low and without the power we won't be able to jump."

"Captain Apollo will be making an engineering survey of all ships this afternoon," Laura said trying to calm his worries.

"Actually," Billy interjected, "the Captain said it'll be more like this evening before he can coordinate the survey."

"All right, then, this evening," the President corrected herself. "But we'll get your needs tended to, Captain. You have my word on it."

Slowly she turned to take her leave when a small head of blonde hair caught her eye.

It was a child, a girl. No more than six or seven. She was sitting on one of the benches overlooking a fish pond, a ragged but well-loved doll in her hands.

She had work to do, so many reports to go over but for some reason all of that seemed like a worthless lot and suddenly Laura found herself sitting next to the small one.

"Hello," she inquired to the girl. "What's your name?"

The youngster looked up at her for a long second, as if calculating the merits of whether to open her mouth or not before finally settling with "Cami".

"Hi, Cami," Roslin grinned down at the girl, "I'm Laura. Are you all alone?"

The _Botanical Cruiser_ was a vacation ship after all, usually families liked to take them because the extensive gardens, artificial beaches and clean environments kept young children entertained during long voyages during their extensive voyages around the space habitats that surrounded each individual colony.

Cami simply nodded at the question.

Laura turned toward Fraizer for an answer.

"She's here with her grandparents," he offered, "but the grandmother's having health problems since the announcement. Don't worry we're taking care of her."

"My parents are going to meet me at the spaceport," Cami proudly smiled up, a lisp creeping into her voice as she sounded out the words in a long drawl like most children do, causing a smile to form on the former school teacher's lips. "In Caprica City."

Laura stopped smiling.

She looked up towards Billy and Fraizer who were both equally as grim.

"I see," Roslin managed to force a grin before Cami noticed.

"We're going to dinner," the girl continued, not noticing as she continued to bounce her doll on her knee. "And then we're going home. And then daddy's going to read to me. And then I'm going to bed."

"Yes you are," Laura reached out and slowly began to smooth Cami's hair. "You'll be home soon enough."

Words that ultimately could not be kept.

* * *

He worked his way through another brunt and broken circuit broad, tossing the worthless piece of hardware to the side with a groan of disgust. Quickly disconnecting the processor from the rest of the system, he snapped a few wires into place, shielded his eyes from the sudden shower of sparks and suppressed a laugh of triumph as the overhead lights sputtered back to life.

"There we go," O'Neill slide free service hatch. "Try to restart now."

"Communications are down," Sisko shook his head. "Life support is at ten percent... secondary systems are not working... engines are down... and FTL is not responding."

This was not good by even a long shot.

The instance they transitioned back into normal space the entire operating system had shutdown, emergency blast shields had fallen into place and they were left drifting alone in Gods nowhere.

"Try rerouting power from the secondary couplings," he proposed. "See if it works now."

"Finding a power tap..." Charlie nodded after a second... before the overhead lights began to flare back to full intensity. "Life support is back on line."

"I can't get the blast shields open and dradis is just soup," he observed as he again tried to work the controls. "We're flying blind."

"Try the emergency back-ups," Sisko offered. "Should reset the system."

Bobbing his head, he activated the proper protocols and smiled as the system began to reactivate itself. Reaching upward he hit the retracted lever for the cockpit over-shield.

He almost wished he hadn't hit the button because as the shudders began to fall away the light that flooded the cockpit was blinding.

It took a moment for his eye's to adjust to the onslaught but when they did he could only notice the wall of utter black roiling beyond their cockpit. For a thought he wondered if they had lost hull integrity but the hull breach alarms would have sounded if anything had broken their hard seal.

Then slowly, as the ship drifted in a lazy circle, the vast expanse of a planet began to roll past their windows.

"My Gods..." he breathed out.

"Sensors confirm we are several thousand-kilometers," Sisko noted as the dradis began to clear, "above the outer corona."

"Can you contact anything," O'Neill quickly shifted in his seat as he ran down his station. "Are we near _Aerilon_ or the mines on _Troy_ or _Equellus_?"

But Charlie only shook his head.

"_Aerilon_ orbit would put us on the other side of the sun," the copilot explained grimly before turning to look at him in confusion. "How did you program a jump from one side of the solar system to the other in a matter of seconds?"

"Engines are still down," O'Neill ignored the question and kept his attention on the controls. "How long do we have?"

Sisko quickly poured over his instruments, tabulating the numbers on the on dashboard calculator and whittling down the probabilities.

"We count seven minutes before your outer hull begins to melt," the young man beside him justified. "I've re-routed all secondary systems to the main drive. She won't budge."

The entire cockpit gave a shake, as the mighty pull of the sun below them began to take effect on their stricken vessel.

"So that's it," Sisko whispered. "We have seven-minutes until we pop like an egg..."

"Keep transmitting our distress signal" his superior order. "I've got to go below deck and... um... an..."

"What's the point?" the youngster shot him a glare.

"Just do it!" O'Neill shot back at him. "I'll be below deck..."

* * *

Laura sat in her chair back onboard _Colonial One_ almost a hour later, staring out into the nothingness outside her window, still trying to fathom the disaster she had been thrust into. The exhaustion, the tension, the enormous duty to the thousands of people on those ships outside, it would drive the average citizen to just end their own life then face it.

She couldn't bring herself to do something so cowardly, so easy.

_Heavy 798_ or _Colonial One _as it had been renamed following Laura's swearing in as the new President, was a small commercial liner originally chartered by the government from Intersun Liners to ferry Roslin, her staff, a few guests of honor and members of the press to the decommissioning ceremony onboard _Galactica_.

Now it was the flying defunct capital of the Colonies.

With two sub-light engines and four commercial-rated FTL drive pods she was a very fast and nimble craft for a civilian liner, coupled with its own docking bay and four cargo holds she was built for long distance travel in a speedy and timely manner. If it weren't for the temperamental FTL computer that made them the bane of the Intersun Liners, the ship class would be the finest in the Colonies.

Whatever Colonies were left to speak of.

The thought was almost sickening to imagine. The war was going badly for them and regardless of what the military told her it was just going downhill from here.

For a bit they had air superiority over _Caprica_, four _Battlestars_ and more than fifty smaller class warships under direct control of Admiral Bay had quickly filled the gap after the destruction of _Rhapsody_. No one would have guessed it would take a single _Raider_ to jump passed the assembled fleet and drop a fifty megaton nuke on Caprica City, shattering little hope they all had.

Laura had been involved in the evacuation of a civilian passenger liner with the beginnings of her refugee convoy when the report had come in that Richard was dead. She should have felt a pang of regret that the man had died, but Adar was not a good man. He was rash, prone to anger when he didn't get his way and their affair had just been another bit of evidence to prove otherwise.

When the Case Orange appeared and she was named the new leader of the Colonies, Laura almost lost every ounce of composer she had just trying to stay calm during her swearing in. By the time she had assumed control she found _Caprica_ and eight other colonies under heavy fire, the military refusing to recognize her authority and the human race on the road to extinction.

After a loud verbal argument with Admiral Nagala who refused to stop his counter attacks to mount search and rescue operations and another fight between Captain Apollo and Commander Adama over their continuing operations in a combat zone, Laura had finally decided the military had abandoned them to fight the war.

And because of that she was spending every second of her free time coordinating the almost ninety ships of the convoy into what little semblance of civilized refuge remained in the Colonies.

Resting her head in the palm of her hands her few seconds of rest were interrupted by the sound of approaching feet.

Looking up she found Lee 'Apollo' Adama standing next to her chair.

"Captain?" she asked.

"Message from Lieutenant Valerii," he explained handing her a copy of the message. "She's found a fuel refinery ship, filled to the brim with tylium."

"About time we caught a break," Laura nodded at their luck. "So that'll bring us to what? Eighty... ninety ships? Not bad for a few hours work…" she trailed off in thought as she stared out the tiny window at the numerous transports outside.

"Yes, sir. But only about sixty of those ships have faster-than-light capabilities," Lee scrutinized. "We should start transferring people off the sub-lights and onto the FTL's as soon as possible."

"Good idea," she conceded to his more trusted wisdom, though the tired look in her eyes said otherwise.

"Madam President," Apollo finally asked, "is there something wrong?"

"You know the Education Ministry conducts the census," Laura said after a beat.

"No," Lee shrugged, "I didn't know that."

"50-billion, 254-million, 197-thousand, 512," Laura rattled off as she slowly turned to face the other man, "at last count."

For a while quiet reigned, neither speaking as if they were counting off their number of dead loved ones that could be subtracted from that number.

"Anything else, Captain?" Laura finally asked.

"I don't think we should stay here much longer, sir. Sharon tells me the Cylons are starting to dig in further," Apollo warned. "Whatever's happening they seemed to be floundering."

"What do you mean?" she was a bit confused by his reasoning. The Cylons had dealt the Colonies a devastating blow and haft the _Battlestar_ fleet that had been destroyed could attest to that.

"They brought too few ships, more fighters then they needed and from the reports I've read they've had a huge number of equipment failures," Lee detailed the ongoing war and its breakdown. "A _Basestar_ over _Tauron_ was about to engage our fleet when they just lost power."

"Then you think the Cylons had something hidden up their sleeves that didn't come through for them in the end?" Laura surmised.

"Yeah," the young Adama affirmed. "Plus there are all these reports of UFO's around the Colonies, unknown and strange ships attacking and harassing the Cylons. If it weren't for them our fleet out there would be much smaller then it is now."

His eyes went vacant for a moment as he imagined the number of ships that could have been lost if it weren't for those weird ships that were appearing. Rumors on the wireless range from a top secret Colonial ship to alien monsters to the Lords of Kobol returned.

Whoever they were, they were buying the convoy time to organize itself and escape.

But escape to where?

* * *

A bullet hit the concrete behind him head, rattling his teeth as the rock that had taken the impact rippled the force of the hit through his skull.

Chief Petty Officer Ike Wilson gritted under the continued onslaught, pinned behind a broken support column with his fellow soldiers.

"Centurions coming around the bend!" Lieutenant Hutton yelled over the roar. "Wilson, Chazz and Irvin, circle around to cut them off."

Ike did as he was told and ducking his head, followed Wilson and Chazz across the concourse.

Days ago Lacarson had been the hub for all space traffic on _Virgon_. Shuttles and liners sailed the skies to the orbiting space stations, attracting many companies, military and civilian alike for work, hence the expansive metropolis that could rival Caprica City in size that surrounded the facility.

A few hours before rush hour, the height of the day for launches.

Porters were carrying luggage onto the tarmac, commuters hauled their carry-ons onto waiting liners, cheap souvenir vendors tried to hawk their goods.

More than a few passengers were irked when word came down that something had happened on _Caprica_ and all flights were delayed.

Everyone was terrified when word came over that Lacarson had been nuked.

It was probably its strategic location as the top transportation center that had kept the Cylon's from doing the same to Delphi. That didn't deter them from landing several battalions of Centurions to take the spaceport.

A massive spaceport like Lacason in Cylon hands would mean they could use the fueling and landing fields here to deploy more troops to _Virgon_.

The 91st Virgon Marine Division was not about to let them.

Discarded luggage and trash still covered the pristine blue carpet of the terminal, many passengers had dropped what they were holding and ran. Occasionally it wasn't trash... it was bodies.

Most of those passengers had abandoned whatever they were holding and ran when several dozen _Heavy_ _Raiders_ crested the horizon. The majority had escaped but there were occasionally an unfortunate soul that had been caught in the crossfire.

It was nearly an hour later that the Centurions had taken the spaceport, three hours later the Colonial Marines deployed two hundred soldiers to retake the facility. An hour after that for both sides to whittled themselves down to only two dozen Centurions and forty men.

Ike ducked behind a ticket counter as the chrome head of an approach bullet head rounded the corner. Chazz quickly took his cue and threw himself down to join him.

Irvin wasn't so lucky.

He was so engrossed it getting to their goal that he never noticed the machine until the click of its arm cannon caught his ears. By then it was too late and only a spray of bullets and a splash of blood on the blue carpet was left.

The Centurion, now covered in a fresh coat of red, turned and opened fire on the two hiding marines, the thin wood of the ticket counter chipping away under fire.

"We're not going to last long!" Chazz screamed over the roar of the incoming bullets.

Already the top foot of the counter was gone and sawdust covered the two men's helmets.

"Can you make a roll to that terminal?" Ike yelled back, indicating the long corridor beside them that could provide an escape route.

The soldier shock his head no.

It was fifteen feet to the next terminal, more than enough distance to run and more than enough distance for a Centurion to turn and gun them down.

Suddenly the chances of surviving this day were dropping rapidly.

"_FIRE IN THE HOLE_!"

Both men were caught off guard as a voice louder than they had ever heard bellowed.

A second later a rocket arched over their heads and hit the Centurion in the torso, taking the machine out in a amazing fireworks display of green light.

"What the frak?" Ike looked towards his savior and instead saw only a cat...

A cat standing on its hind-legs holding a rocket launcher.

Barely three feet tall it quickly turned on its bare paws and fired another rocket, catching the Centurion's comrades coming around the terminal corner Ike had suggested as their previous escape route.

He silently thanked the Gods they hadn't gone stumbling in that direction or they'd surely be riddled with bullets right now.

The explosion blew six of the machines to the side as three more became spare parts.

Before their eyes the feline holstered her cannon and withdrew two small black guns.

They didn't look like much but when they opened fire, green bolts of light blasted forth and actually sliced two of the recovering Centurions in half.

Surveying its work the cat dropped both its weapons towards the ground but kept them ready for any sudden arrivals. It was then that her yellow eyes locked on the two marines cowering on the floor.

"If you want to continue wetting yourselves I will not interrupt," it stated in a woman's voice, a thick accent that drew out the vowels of each word as she spoke.

Ike and Chazz however were still dumbstruck over being saved from a seven foot robot by a three foot cat.

"What the frak are you!" screamed Chazz, sheer terror filling his voice.

"Chief Petty Officer First Class Diana Thunderstorm," she nodded, still continuing to scrutinize the spaceport terminal. "Enlisted soldier with the 95SpinwardαǼ ground combat detachment. We're here to support the Colonial recapture of this facility."

"You're on our side?" Ike inquired, finally getting up from his position against the ticket counter, a layer of saw dust falling off him in a burn wood smelling wave.

"I just wasted two of my six rockets to save your asses," Diana smiled a toothy grin that showed off her gleaming fangs. "No, I'm just here for the welcoming atmosphere this place provides."

Sarcasm... a three foot, gun-trotting cat that had an attitude problem.

Suddenly murderous robots didn't seem so bad.

"Now let's get moving," Thunderstorm ordered.

"Hey! Who put you in-charge!" Chazz sputtered.

Again Diana smiled, two particularly long incisors shinning in the front of her pearly whites.

"Unless you want to sit here, I wouldn't mind," she said. "However your commanding officer was killed no less than two-minutes ago and the Colonial command issued an immediate retreat back to the city. This facility now belongs to the Cylons!"

"We can't just abandon this place," Chazz protested. "If we lose it then there will be nothing keeping the Centurions from marching over those hills and taking out Lacarson!"

"Do you really believe we are going to allow them to keep it?" Thunderstorm grinned her toothy fangs at the men. "The retreat to Lacarson is only to consolidate our forces."

"Our forces?" Ike asked a bit confused.

"Hegemony special forces are inbound now," the feline woman explained. "But we have to cement our forces in the city before we start to extend ourselves outward. NOW MOVE..."

* * *

"_Colonial One, Raptor 238_," Lieutenant Sharon 'Boomer' Valerii communicated, "I'm back and brought a friend."

Piloting her craft solo through the growing fleet of civilian ships, she had to marvel at the shear work President Roslin had done to put such a feat together. Already she could see several new additions, two passenger liners and if she could believe her eyes, an antiquated Libran _Ring_-class cruise ship. Its glowing blue ring spun in the darkness, using centrifugal force to produce gravity and Sharon could distinctly make out buildings, trees and even a pool inside its habitation hoop.

"_This is Colonial One to Raptor 238_," a voice clicked over her communicator. "_Please relay flight pattern instructions to the Hitei Kan. We have cleared our landing bay for your approach."_

She quickly checked her console for the proper frequency and passed along the flight instructions to the tylium refinery ship _Hitei Kan_ that held close to her flank. She had managed to find the Virgonese craft hiding deep within a debris field that once was _Rhapsody_. It had taken some coaxing but eventually they had agreed to leave their safe hiding place, if you called anchoring yourself to a chunk of the stations broken superstructure as it drifted in a decaying orbit.

Once the information was passed along she banked her craft away as the _Hitei Kan_ took its position in the core of the fleet and began to make her approach towards _Colonial One_.

The thought of having a few hours down time as her ship's FTL cooled off and refueled seemed like a blessing right now.

_Raptors_ was built for purpose, not comfort. The forward section contained the flight cabin, seats for the pilot and ECO. Behind that was the flight cabin, where the sensory equipment was found and doubling as a passenger area. Even with just her piloting the seats were uncomfortable, the ground was hard and it was cramped. At full capacity, which Boomer had already pushed, she could hold eight to ten adults plus herself and that was even worse.

She tried not to think about the reason she was now alone.

"Flight instructions are transmitted," she noted. "Coming home, _Colonial One_."

"_Welcome back, Boomer_," Captain Russo's voice was a welcome home to her as she piloted her small ship towards the white angle that was Colonial One. "_Got a lot of thirsty ships here eager to make your friend's acquaintance_."

As she made her approach, Boomer happened to notice a few _Vipers_ coasting overhead. It looked like they had managed to pick up a few stragglers.

If she remembered from the last time she was in _Caprica_ orbit, _Rhapsody_ had a compliment of over two hundred _Vipers_ and fifty _Raptors_. When they had been hit probably at least a fourth of those were on standard patrols.

Of course she would ream herself for the thought, but it was lucky these pilots were far enough away that they missed out on all the fighting.

_Raptors_ were normally unarmed as they were made for poor general-purpose fighter. Sure they were capable of holding offensive and defensive weapons and carried eight hard points for many different kinds of launchers, from missile to rotatable munitions pods, but they weren't designed for any true kind of combat.

It made her a bit more comfortable knowing they were around.

Suddenly an alarm began to sound on Sharon's console. Quickly checking her dradis display a blip raced across the screen.

"Got a visitor!" Sharon yelled as she sighted her target, a single Cylon _Raider_ racing along the outskirts of their ragtag fleet.

"_We see him_," Russo yelled trying in vain to coordinate some kind of response to the intruder. "_Can you jam his signal_?"

But it was too late.

It had taken only a few subsequent seconds for the _Raider_ to make a quick scan of the fleet and jump away, leaving a terrified Boomer and several thousand more people in its wake.

* * *

The bright flash of light faded, everyone rubbed their eyes at the spots suddenly overpowered their vision as the ship unfolded back into normal space.

"Report?" Adama yelled as everyone quickly returned to work, hushed talk returned and the clicks of tapping keyboards became nothing but a background noise.

"Taking a bearing now..." Lieutenant Gaeta called out as he consulted the navigation boards before turning back to his commanding officer with a smile, "and we appear to be in geosynchronous orbit directly above the _Ragnar Anchorage_."

For the first time in what felt like forward celebration and applause broke out in the CIC, Commander Adama and Colonel Tigh smiled and shook hands and general atmosphere became lighter for just an instance.

"Old girl's got some life in her yet," Adama grinned.

"Never doubted it for a moment," Saul smirked right back.

"All right, people..." the celebration began to quiet as everyone set back to work. "Mister Gaeta, secure the FTL drive and bring the sub-light engines to full power. Colonel Tigh, please update your chart for the course down into the eye of the storm..."

* * *

"It definitely scanned us before it jumped," Russo reported to the assembled group of people, Captain Adama, the President, her aide and some persistent little man named Doral who insisted he be included. "After that every Cylon signature in _Caprica_ orbit went silent."

"We need to go, now," Adama pushed. "The Cylons will be here any minute and we only have six _Vipers _to cover this entire fleet."

That only prompted an angry Doral to come to the opposition's defense.

"Madame President," he cautioned, his eyes darting between the officer and the leader of the Colonial government with an ample amount of concern. "There are still thousands of people on the sub-light ships. We can't just leave them."

While Captain Russo disliked Doral very much he had to go along with him. "I agree. We should use every second to get as many people off the sub-lights as we can. We can wait to jump until we pick up a Cylon strike force moving in."

"We're easy targets," Lee spurred on. "They're going to jump into the middle of our ships with a handful of nukes and wipe us out before we have a chance to react. During the last War they were well-known for jumping a single _Raider_ into the heart of civilian convoys and detonating their nukes without ever bothering to launch them. We can't wait."

"We can't just leave them all behind!" Doral yelled. "You'll be sacrificing thousands of people!"

"But we'll be saving tens of thousands," Lee countered. "I'm sorry to make it a numbers game, but we're talking about the survival of our race here. We don't have the luxury of taking risks and hoping for the best, because if we lose, we lose everything. And Madame President, this is the kind of decision that needs to be made right now."

"Will they be able to track us through a jump?" Laura posed, not quite ready to decide just yet.

"No, sir," he discounted, shaking his head quickly as the adrenaline of the situation spurred him on. "It's impossible."

"Theoretically impossible?" Laura had to inquire, even she knew some basics about FTL to be concerned.

Apollo had to reluctantly concede. "Yes, theoretically..."

For a long moment the room was silent. If she commanded the fleet to jump, twenty ships and almost thirty thousand people would be left behind. Staying would mean on the other hand putting the other seventy ships and sixty thousand people in harm's way. Billions of people were already dead, every soul lost meant that the human race was one step closer to extinction.

Could they afford to leave a few souls behind to save the whole.

"Order the fleet to jump to _Ragnar..._ immediately," Laura ordered.

They could.

The men quickly made their exits, like players on a stage they had their roles to perform.

One however remained.

"Madam President," Billy voice was always a bit shaky.

"I have cancer," Laura didn't mean to spit it out like that, just to drop it on the table. But it was done and she didn't care.

"I know," the inflection that he was being truthful gained a look of surprise from her. "Earlier, you known when you were in the bathroom... you got a message from a Doctor Westin asking when you wanted to set an appointment. He's one of the lead oncologists in the Colonies. So I figured..."

She looked at her, the exhaustion and emotions of the past hours pulling at her.  
"It's malignant," Laura responded. "My prognosis was... doubtful. Even with treatment, I have a 5-percent chance of survival."

"I wish there was something I could say," he offered, a soundless condolence that meant little beyond common courtesy to the dying.

She took a long look at him and even without the glasses pitched on the bridge of her nose, she could see the puffiness and red veins in the young man's eyes.

He had been crying... though he had only been away from her side for barely five minutes at a time since this crisis began he had obviously taken a few seconds to finally allow his tightly wound emotions loss.

So preoccupied with her own inevitable demise she had completely forgotten his entire family was on _Picon_, one of the first Colonies the Cylons had attacked. All probably dead now, if the reports that had trickled in were true.

"Me too," Laura laughed, trying to lighten the mood. "Wish I could say it's the least of my worries right now or that the magnitude of everything else has pushed it aside, but I can't. The entire world is coming to an end and all I can think about is that I have cancer and now I'm probably going to die. How selfish is that?"

"It's not selfish," Billy countered. "It's human."

She smiled at him. Anyone who could make a person who's mortal life was fading away before her eyes deserved whatever kindness she could give.

Slowly he turned to go, wrapping his fingers around his notepad as he made his departure. Something made Laura stop him; she knew there was something else that was on his mind.

"Anything else, Billy?" she asked.

"No... yes, sir," he stammered a bit. "That... girl you meet today? Cami. Her ship can't make the jump."

The smile for a second time today collapsed.

"Thank you, Billy," she stated at barely a whispers level, "that will be all..."

* * *

His leg muscles screamed, his tendons were tight, his knees ached a dreadful painful and sweat collecting the small of his back in a very uncomfortable manner.

"How much farther?" someone whined from the back of the group and Helo had to shout them a burning glare to get them to shut up.

They had been hiking along the mountain roads between Caprica City and Hammerville for hours now, the sun may have been an obscure orb burning in the sky but still the heat in the air was unbearable and everything tasted distinctively of ash.

The group held tight to the side of the road, not venturing onto the asphalt. They had learned the hard way that the road was a great and speedy way across the land, it was also a danger.

So far three vehicles had raced past and though they had tried to hail them down, the drivers had kept speeding on in a panicked swerve, even if they nearly ran down the bystanders in the process. After two near hits they had taken to the side of the road, it may have slowed them but it was safer.

Someone stumbled beside him, feet unable to find a purchase in the lumpy grass covered ground.

"You okay?" Helo made no attempt to help him, he had learned that any time he had reached out to help Gaius snapped at him.

"I'm fine," he pushed on.

Karl had to admit, the good doctor was an ass but at least he fought to keep up at the head of the group. So far they had covered half the distance between where the _Raptor_ had lifted off to their destination and still Baltar remained among the leaders of their thirty souls.

They were just cresting the next hill when he heard it, the pup pup of an old engine fighting to throw the necessary force into its wheels to make it up the incline.

Turning back Helo was astounded as the old freight truck climbed towards them...

"Hey!" he waved his hands in the air desperately, hoping for just a second that whoever was behind the wheel wouldn't run them down as much as offer them a ride. "Hey! Over here!"

The truck barreled past them, a blur of rubber and metal that kept rolling down the street... a hope that was quickly becoming a speck on the road... and a speck of any hope.

"Gods frakking dammit!" he stamped his foot on the ground in frustration, not even caring that he slammed his boots into the largest rock he could find.

"Well there goes that," Gaius sarcastically groaned, though he clamped his mouth shut the moment Helo rounded on him with a seething glare.

He resisted the urge to punch the man, to ring his neck for every tiny comment he had whined and groaned about during this trek. He was close, very close to giving in... but thankfully the squeal of braking tires broke him from those thoughts.

The truck came to a halt a good hundred-feet down the road, idling for just a second before locking back into reverse and backing towards them.

"Thank Ares," someone gasped but Helo was already jogging towards approaching vehicle.

Jumping up the foot stool beside the passenger window he looked in through the open window to grin at their savior.

"Thanks, mistered," he beamed.

"Where you people head?" the stout, withered driver asked from behind the rim of a black baseball cap.

"Hammerville," Helo breathed in a sigh of relief. "Hoping to grab a shuttle off world."

"Well you're in luck," he smiled, "on my way right now. Get those people abroad then."

Helo waved the group ahead, they didn't need any encouragement as they rushed down the road and piled into the back of the waiting truck, stumbling over each other but still managing to get abroad in record time.

"Everyone in?" the driver asked as he glanced into the rearview mirror.

"Yeah," Helo nodded as he slide into the passenger seat beside him. "Names Helo. You?"

"Cavil," the man grinned as he kicked the truck into drive. "Cavil Trent.

* * *

A _Raider_ banked over the landscape, its engines screaming in the air as it rolled and spun through the clouds. It was almost like a soaring eagle in the sky... until it released its deadly payload.

On the ground four massive explosions blossomed. It wasn't nuclear, it had long since used those type of ordinance up hour ago but still they created a large enough bloom on the ground.

Soldiers screamed, ground vehicles went airborne and debris blossomed into the air in a scene of uncontrolled fire.

It's mission accomplished it started to pull away... until a volley of missile fire smashed into its bulbous head and shattered the craft in a violent boom.

"Two rockets," Thunderstorm grumbled as she snapped the launcher onto her back. "I really should have nicked a few more from the armory."

"Gods," Chazz was astonished by the view they had of the grounds below the bluff they stood atop. "It's blood bath city."

He was correct in so many regards and worse yet his imagination was a shear understatement for what played out below them.

It was a battlefield.

Colonial soldiers had entrenched themselves in the former suburbs and fields around Lacarson, building trenches through parks and playgrounds to deal with the waves after waves of Centurions that were trying to purge the population center of all life.

Since the Cylons couldn't just destroy the city with a nuke and risk damage to the strategic value to the nearby spaceport and their troops landing there, they would have to march down every street, alley and road, clearing it of all life.

"Listen carefully, we don't have a lot of time," Thunderstorm stated. "My people have a means to protect the city inside a barrier. Cylons won't be able to nuke it, Centurions won't be able to walk inside and the entire thing it covers will be impenetrable."

"You mean like some kind of shield?" Ike asked, remembering all those science fiction comics he use to read as a child.

"What are you stupid?" the cat couldn't hide the utter stupidity she just heard. "There's no such thing as energy shields! Listen the properties it works by doesn't matter but once its online the city will be safe... but it also means that everything outside will be trapped there."

"And how is that suppose to help?" Chazz pressed.

"It will give us time to regroup and time for reinforcements to reach us," Diana retorted. "We are evacuating all the surrounding civilians into Lacarson but if my estimates are correct... we have twenty minutes until they activate the barrier."

"Are you insane," Chazz shouted. "It's going to take us about an hour to get all the way there. We should have just stayed at the spaceport."

"Yeah and ended up with some great bullet wounds to show off," Ike retorted.

"We have an outpost a short while away," Thunderstorm declared. "Transports are running to the city every minute. We just have to get on one of those and its only a short ride into Lacarson."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Ike shrugged.

"Got anywhere else to be," Chazz shot right back.

On the ground it was chaos, the mechanical soldiers of the Cylons marched over the rubble, crunching the debris and spent bodies of their foes underfoot. Colonial soldiers tried to hold the line but they were being pushed back every second.

"Hurry up, let's go!" Thunderstorm shouted as her spry legs carried her through one of the empty trenches that crisscross the combat zone.

They stumbled through the muddy ditches, through makeshift camps that had already been abandoned and over those bodies left behind in the retreat. Overhead bullets whizzed by and rockets flew, explosions and screams flush out all other noise.

"Come on!" they all looked up as a man waved them on from the end of the furrow... at least the two Colonials thought it was a man.

Standing on ostrich-like legs that hinged back on a second set of knees, the tall green creature was a good head taller than their group. From both side of his green head and also from its top, three moving tentacles hung as low as his waist, each one moving and slithering like a living snake, as three eyes blinked at them.

"Crewman Xynar," Thunderstorm shouted as they ground to a halt, "report!"

"Secondary units are holding the line," the man explained in a grunting tone. "Colonel Diego requests you report the enemy conditions at the spaceport as soon as possible."

"Hand over you communicator then," the feline held out her hand and without requiring any further prompting, the towering Uxorite handed over a small egg-shaped device.

Diana effortless slipped the device into her triangular ear and tapped it to activate.

Just precisely at the time a rocket slammed into the ground a few meters away from their position.

"Colonel Diego," Thunderstorm shouted into her implement. "Colonel Diego can you hear me?"

"Easy, woman," a gruff, southern voice echoed so loud even the Colonials could hear it. "Pull yourself together and give me a proper report."

"Yes sir," the woman nodded before continued. "Centurions at the spaceport broke through the west corridor into zone delta. Requesting air support to remove the heaviest concentrations."

"Negative," the Colonel shouted it down. "We lost contact with air support over an hour ago. I am ordering you to start falling back to the city. General retreat sounded two-minutes ago."

"Sir, yes, sir..."

* * *

The storm loomed around them, even if they were in the eye of the cloud cover it still pressed in one them from all sides like a whirlpool of endless turquoise.

"Five seconds to turn three," Colonel Tigh called out to the navigators, as he kept his eyes intently focused on the overhead readouts.

"Five seconds, aye," the two women and one man at the control stations called out.

"And turn," Saul ordered.

"Bow pitch positive one half," Lieutenant Gaeta quietly added beside the three navigators, "stern pitch negative one quarter, bow yaw negative three quarters."

"_Crossing into the ionosphere,_" Dualla read out over the ship's internal comms, her voice echoing all throughout the Battlestar. "_All hands, standby for chop ahead_."

"Five seconds to turn four..." the Colonel's voice disappeared as they were buffeted by their first gale from the storm, rocking them and lurching the ship to one side.

Still they pressed on.

Through the clouds they moved, like a ship prowling through the stormy oceans of ancient times. And as they pushed ahead, they destination began to appear out of the murky maelstrom.

_Ragnar_ was one of the four major gas giants located on the edge of Cyrannus and like most of its kind it was wracked by deadly and powerful storms. The winds were so dangerous they could pull the armor plating off a _Battlestar_ at only two miles deep, any further and the crushing gravity took care of anything that made it intact that far.

Colonial engineers had chosen this site specifically due to the rare Thoron radiation the planet naturally created, a type of energy that cause disruptions in the postronic brains of most Cylons and their technology. Second was the heavy electromagnetic interference in the upper atmosphere which wrecked havoc with an array of systems, from dradis to FTL. While it was a major help at rendering anything inside the cloud cover invisible to enemy scans it also made jumping problematic.

The result of these factors were enough for the massive undertaking by the military to construct a space station inside the relative calm eye of a storm along _Ragnar's _equator.

_Ragnar Anchorage_ had once been the main fleet command hub for the entire Colonial military war effort among the outer worlds of Cyrannus and beyond. But after the war upkeep costs demoted her to nothing more than a crewless ammunition reserve. Thankfully that had attracted the _Battlestar Galactica _out here and not a full Cylon fleet.

Approaching the towering superstructure, the _Galactica_ maneuvered herself alongside the enormous station, dwarfed by its massive size. Pressing herself closer, the angled her starboard side towards the upper hub of the facility, one of the only non-moving portions as the entire structure spun in the night.

Closer and closer until finally her hull kissed the docking port with as much grace as the behemoth could muster.

"Hard seal," Lieutenant Gaeta reported as his sensors started to register the change. "Atmosphere and pressure check. Positive. Clearing for boarding party, sir."

"Very well," the Commander nodded as he activated his headset and patched himself through to the Airlock Three. "We have a hard seal up here, Chief."

Below deck, Chief Tyrol was standing beside one of the massive cargo airlocks inside the largely unused starboard flight-pod.

"Airlock Three, Chief Tyrol speaking," the man acknowledged into the wall speaker. "Confirm that, sir. I show hard seal as well."

"_Go find me some weapons coils, Chief_," Adama ordered through the crackling, ancient device.

"Will do, sir," Galen deactivated the comm and glanced back towards his team. Socinus and Cally, both still carrying the sot from the fires that had claimed Prosna. "Get your gear and move out."

The massive airlock ground out of way, decade old and rust covered gears screamed under the stress of the great barrier starting to pull away.

On the other side a similar, even larger door pulled itself away in the opposing direction, letting in the stale, mildew tasting air.

Stepping forward they moved down the dust covered loading ramps and towards the station core... at least until the man holding gun before them stopped them in their tracks...

* * *

Hammermill Spaceport was one of the largest launch centers on _Caprica_. While the southward Caprica City Spaceport was more meant for government cruises and Delphi Spaceport was known for its massive pleasure liner ports, Hammermill was a strictly civilian airfield, converted in the earlier days before the Colonies unified for the launch of commercial shipping without the support of a military backer.

It still carried many of fancy check in areas and coasting architecture that appealed to the masses of travelers.

The truck pulled right into the departing flights lane, swerving around several abandoned vehicles and people cutting across the road, the moment came to a stop the back hatch of the truck was dropping open and people were spilling out to join the frenzy crowds.

"Thanks," Helo breathed a sigh of relief, even as the chaos continued to erupt around him. "Where you headed now?"

"There's word of some people up in the mountains," Cavil shrugged. "I was thinking about heading up that way and maybe helping them out. Care to tag along?"

For a moment Helo glanced towards the spaceport, towards all those ships racing off into the sky… and then he took particular note of the good Gaius Baltar, stumbling, shoving and throwing himself through the crowd like so many others, all with the hope of getting at least a seat off-world.

"You know what," Karl turned back towards the driver who had saved his life. "Why not…"

* * *

His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, his actions were hysterical and sweat poured off him in waves. He was a ragged soul and the fact he was holding a rifle only put them on edge even further.

"I don't want any trouble," his voice has strained and stretched, as if he was ready to snap at any moment.

"Same here," Tyrol tried to remain amicable, even if his hands and the twelve deckhands behind him all had their hands in the air.

"But I'm not going to jail," the man shouted, edging a little closer to them with his rifle.

"Okay..." Tyrol was a bit confused at this line of questioning.

"You understand?" the man shrieked again. "I'm not going to jail."

His hands tightened on his weapon and try as he could, Tyrol could see this situation wasn't going to be defused easily or quickly.

His hand tightens on the hand weapon and Tyrol tries to defuse the situation.

"Okay, okay," the Chief tried to coax him. "Easy now. No one's taking anyone to jail. I'm not a policeman. We're not here to arrest you."

The scared, antsy man took one look over his deck uniform and Tyrol could see the doubt starting to spring into the man's instincts.

"Yeah, maybe..." he trailed off, "so who are you?"

"We're from the _Battlestar Galactica_," Tyrol knew a show of some power that wasn't truly law enforcement could gain him some points. "Colonial Fleet."

"What... and you just happened to drop in?" it obviously wasn't enough as he tighten his hold on his weapon and took a step back from the group. "Don't give me that. This place's been abandoned for years. It's a junk yard. That's why I'm here. What would a _Battlestar_ be doing here?

"We need some equipment from the station to get back in the fight," the Chief figured the truth couldn't hurt right now, scare the man to cooperate.

"What the frak are you talking about?" he shouted. "What fight?"

"You don't know?" but given his state Tyrol was starting to get concerned at this man's detachment with reality.

"Know what?" the man waved his rifled before them all, causing them all to shirk back. "You think I'm stupid or something? I'm not falling for this! I want passage outta here! I want a safe transport ship with an jump system!"

He was clearly desperate and physically wore out, his stance was slack if he was so worked up and he was blinking his eyes rapidly, as if fighting to stay awake.

"You do as I say," he shouted. "Or I start shooting people.."

* * *

The outpost was mostly deserted by the time they snaked their way out of the trenches. Tent flaps wobbled in the wind, papers and abandoned supplies littered the ground and two auto-turrets continued to fire blind into the far away enemy units.

"They're gone!" Ike shouted as he looked around the abandoned encampment. "They left without us!"

"Quiet!" Xynar bellowed, cutting him off. "Do you hear that?"

In the distance, it was a shout. Not just like the screams that seemed to echo endlessly in the distance or broken booms of far away of exploding ordinances. This one was closer, more feverish.

"Is anyone out there!" a man's voice cried out.

"Over there!" Chazz was the firs to sight them, several dozen civilians all clustered around a large bus looking ship.

It obviously wasn't Colonial as it looked like a long tube, no wheels or windows except for the windshield and several oddly shaped portholes down its side.

As they rushed towards the object, the group of desperate souls quickly began to swarm them, all screaming in one way or another for some kind of assistance.

"Please!"

"You have to help us!"

"The damn thing won't open for us!"

"Alright, alright," Thunderstorm tried to calm the group of twenty individuals. "Where is the pilot?"

"Over there," someone pointed out and all heads turned to a nearby tent.

One glance to see the sprawled Vaadwaur face down on the ground several meters away hinted that this vehicle was not going anywhere without a trained driver.

"Okay, just hold on," Xynar waved himself through the mob and towards the side of the alien craft. Reaching forward he pressed his four finger hand into the side of the craft. "This is Crewman Xynar, 95SpinwardαǼ, _HSS Dissonant Interval... _clearance code amara-three-two-tango-beta-tachyon-twelve."

"_Voice recognition confirmed_," a mechanical voice accepted. "_Welcome abroad Crewman Xynar."_

A door that a moment ago looked no different than the smooth skin of the craft, slide free and without being prompted, the civilians began to rush aboard.

"Move it," he rushed them on as quick as possible. "We've got seven-minutes until they bring up the barrier."

Once the last soul was safely inside, the two Colonials and two Space Guard enlisted we standing at the forefront of the vessel, all staring at the controls in bewilderment.

"Anyone know how to pilot one of these things?" Xynar looked back at them.

"You have no clue?" Ike couldn't hide his utter terror. "This is one of your ships! How can you not know how to fly it."

"He's a rookie," Thunderstorm pushed the pair out of the way and inserted herself into the flight chair. "He won't learn how to fly anything until he makes Petty Officer First Class. Now let see how fast this thing can move."

Activating the holographic controls, the cat quickly steered the vessel into flight, though it only hovered a few feet up before taking off across the surface.

"Hang on folks," she shouted back to the civilian's private citizens in back as they stumbled for footing in the back cargo hold. "No good piece of garbage!"

Across the landscape they rushed, passed a few Colonial battlements still active and towards the looming city before them. No one could not help but notice the _Raiders_ starting to choke the sky or the increasing number of Centurions towards the outer limits of the metropolis.

Several of the mechaniods managed to get off some hits, the transport rocked and shook as bullets peppered her sides. While no one inside was hurt, several systems took damaged and sparked, causing them all to spring back or shield their eyes.

This battle was quickly dissolving, as they watched soldiers were already pulling back, intermixed with terrified civilians who had had their evacuations routes cross with ongoing battles. People dressed in business suits and carrying briefcases ran for their lives along side armored veterans. Medics carried a woman still dressed in her wedding gown as her groom limped beside her. A teacher ushered along a group of screaming children most likely evacuated during the height of recess.

It was a mismatched bunch and it only grew worse as they entered the city.

"This would be our stop," Diana commented after a beat, as the flow of refugees seemed to be slowing to a stop. She balanced the hovering craft into a perfect landing among one particular group of people.

The moment she hit the door release a blue, humanoid wolf was shouldering his way into the door frame.

"You!" the Loban man shouted as he saw who was navigating this vehicle. "What are you doing behind the wheel of this transport. Where is Crewman Jisa?"

"Dead," the feline hissed right back. "And it would be called driving it. What else would I be doing?"

"And you made it through the entire front line in one piece?" the wolf didn't seem entirely too convinced at the prospect.

"Yep," Thunderstorm grinned with her largest fangs... that is until a service panel behind her hadn't decide to crash to the ground. "Well, maybe a few big pieces but you know, we made it."

"_Warning_," a voice overshadowed any further conversation. "_Electromagnetic barrier activation in ten seconds. All personnel should vacate the envelopment zone._"

"You're gonna wanna see this," the Loban was already out the door and moving off, stretching his snout towards the sky.

Casting a glance back at Chazz, Ike and Xynar, she clambered out of her seat and into the dust streets of Lacarson. It was a city of pyramids, as pointed architecture seemed to be a favorite of this planet's architects.

They were all on the grounds of a small business park plaza and staring up when the first hint of the barrier became obvious.

A blue wash began to fall down over them, like someone was pouring water over an invisible bubble. The air seemed to become electric and the taste of ozone wasn't missed by anyone as the field crackled and hissed towards the ground.

An electromagnetic barrier was nothing like the shields of science fiction. It was a sphere of tightly controlled EMP particles, who while inert on the inside, its surface was literally a field of charged energy. Solid objects could still pass through but anything that came in contact with its existence found every bit of thermal, kinetic, chemical and electrical energy sucked dry.

On the edge of the city the Centurions were finding that the hard way.

Targeting Colonial civilians barely twenty meters away, the machines opened fire only to watch as their bullets flew forth... slowed and then losing their inertia, bounced to the ground a good distance short of their target.

When, after several attempts failed, the first Centurions switched to their melee weapons and attempted to come after the Colonial soldiers, they instead found their batteries drained the moment they connected with the barrier.

It was the perfect protection... and the perfect prison.

For the Colonials could not simply hide inside the field and snipe the helpless Centurions outside.

The reason EM-barriers were not common place on warships or planets were because while they provided protection, nothing could come or go through the field. Communications through it were scrambled, machines failed to work the moment they connected, bombs had all their stored chemical drained and even a person connecting with the barriers edge had every bit of energy emptied from their persons.

It was strictly a defensive tool, offering no offensive value.

"Well for now," Thunderstorm commented at the crackling field as she turned towards the two Colonials. "We wait..."

* * *

"We don't know much more than that... but the Cylons have launched an all out... and devastating attack on the Colonies," Tyrol quickly explained to the gun trotting man. "It's imperative that we get the equipment we need and get our ship back in service as quickly as possible."

The man was stun, suddenly very unsure of his stance anymore... but still he held the gun at ready.

"But... but," the man stumbled over his words, "why would the Cylons, after all these years... I mean, just like that, with no warning... doesn't make sense... does it?"

"It doesn't have to make sense," Galen shot back. "It's the truth."

"An attack... on the Colonies..." He stammered the reality out to himself again, as if trying to convince himself. "How many people are..."

"We don't know," Tyrol shrugged his shoulders like the weight of the world was on them. "Look, Mister..."

"Conoy," the man added. "Leoben Conoy."

"Mister Conoy," the Chief ground the words out one by one, his patience finally running short. "I have close to two thousand people on that ship and unless you think you can shoot every single one of us, I suggest you get out of the way and let us get those coils right now."

The tone, the command in Tyrol's voice seemed to have done the trick, slowly the gun began to drop and the man began to relax... until a second later when his body went limp and his face slapped against the ground.

He didn't move for a good half a minute before finally the man began to move.

"What the frak?" Tyrol shot forward and quickly turned the man over. Unblinking eyes started up at him and a trickle of blood dripped free of the man's lips. "He's dead!"

"Poor bastards," Socinus asked as he kneeled over the unmoving body. "He's been here so long he must have died of dehydration or Gods know what."

"What should we do?" Cally asked.

"All right," Tyrol shouted to his people as he rose back over the corpse, "people let's get an inventory and find those coils! Cally, get Doctor Cottle to haul this body out of here..."

* * *

"_Ladies and gentlemen_," the captain's voice boomed through the passenger cabin, drowning out the shouts, the banging of luggage, of crying confused women. "_We have been cleared for liftoff so please take your seats and buckle up_."

A green dressed stewardess scurried down the aisle, quietly asking the passengers to take their seats, as they made ready for departure.

"Seats, please," she ushered a young couple into their proper accommodations, her slippers scuffing over the fine carpet. Her eyes fixated on one man in particular, he seemed absolutely terrified, clutching his suitcase to his chest like a life vest. "Please sir, stow your luxury under the seat."

"When are we leaving?" the man franticly asked.

"We've been cleared for immediate lift-off," she hoped that was enough to sooth this individual before she turned back to the rest of the coach seating. "Seats everyone... please!"

Her voice was drown out as the engines began to whine up, rising in a crescendo of noise... the sound of survival.

Then it all went quiet.

The lights flickered, the engines went silent, everyone shot confused glances in every direction looking for answers.

"_Ladies and Gentlemen," _the captain's voice again blared into the cabin._ "We've just suffered a computer failure in our navigation systems. I'm afraid we're grounded until further notice. Please disembark immediately, we have cleared room on some of the other transports to accommodate-_"

There was protests, screams of indignation and a chorus of crying sorrow that filled the cabin but there was little more they could do. Pushing through the departing crowd, he re-entered the terminal, trying to find his way in the mass of terrified and rushed souls.

A mother ran passed with a scream infant in her arms, someone dropped a suitcase and made no attempt to go back for it, something in the distance crashed in a shattering scream of glass and no matter where… you looked it was chaos.

Through the huge glass dome over the transportation hub another ship roared into the atmosphere, a long blue cruise liner that rocketed overhead so fast the window panes wobbled.

He was dazed, confused, everything was just too fast placed and he just wanted for just a few seconds to be able to sit down, catch his breath and let his nerves catch up...

There she was, standing at the edge of the concourse, staring at him over the crowd of screaming and teeming herd.

Before he knew his feet were moving, depositing him right before her as his feet quaked under him and he nearly threaten to loss his footing with reality.

Her usually cold exterior was beginning to crack; her programmed human emotions were supposed to be disappearing, giving way to her cold Cylon nature. But instead she was actually holding back tears.

"Was that's your doing too?" his temper flared as the accusation hit home.

"No," she shrugged, though now suddenly she couldn't look him in the eyes. "That wasn't my job."

"What was your job?" he shouted, flailing his hands, not even bothering to notice his briefcase falling from his hands and smacking into the floor.

"It won't matter in... after..." suddenly her eyes locked with his and for the first time since he had met her, he could see she fighting back tears. "I'm so sorry, Gaius."

"After?" he stammered "After wha-"

"Get down," she reached her hands out, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and shoving him to the ground.

It was perfect timing as the moment the carpet ground into his noise a blinding light drove the darkness back.

The entire terminal erupted in screams, a moment later they were drown out as the shock-wave struck...

* * *

Captain Russo and Apollo sat in the cockpit of _Colonial One_ going through their final check lists as they prepared for the jump to _Ragnar_.

"Set ESB trajectory..." he trailed off as the sound of a voice over the wireless sounded through the cockpit.

"_Colonial_ _One_, _for Gods' sake, you can't just leave us here_!" Captain Lawerence of the _Agincourt_ protested. The pleas from those being left behind crowded the wireless airwaves, coming since the President had ordered the abandoning of the sub-lights.

"Set," Lee confirmed.

"_I've got fifty people onboard_!" a voice later to be identified as the pilot of the _Brazen_, objected. "_Let me circle back, I have a capacity for two hundred_!"

"Cycle cryo-fans," Russo continued.

"_Colonial One_," Captain Williams of the _Pryxis _fought. "_We can't just leave these people behind_."

Lee didn't even notice as he announced, "Cycled."

"_At least tell us where you're going!_" the _Agincourt's_ captain begged, "_We'll follow at sub-light! Please!_"

Russo reached out to respond but Lee stopped him before his hand could reach the switch.

"No," he said, "If they're captured, then the Cylons know too."

He was right after all. This was endgame and if they didn't play their card right the Cylon's could be waiting on the other side of their jump with a nuke. Radio silence was the only way to keep themselves safe.

"_Can't believe you really want us to do this_," it was now the _Adriatic_ weighing on the decision.

"Spinning up FTL drive now," Captain Russo confirmed as the whining of the FTL filled the cabin.

"_This is insane! You're killing us! You're killing us_!" another ship screamed.

"All ships prepare to jump on our mark. Five..." Lee began the countdown.

"_Show some humanity for Gods' sake_!" the _Thunder's_ officers begged. "_Tell us where to go_!"

"Four..."

The _Coronis'_ pilot prayed over the wireless. "_May the Lords of Kobol protect those we leave behind_."

"Three..."

"_Oh my Gods_," some unknown captain shouted over the speakers. "_Our dradis is picking up inbound targets heading this way_!"

"Two"

"_I see them! Are they Colonials_?" another asked.

"One..."

"_They're Cylon_!" the final of the three screamed.

"Mark..."

The final words of one female left behinds would ring in Lee's ears for weeks to come. "_I hope you people rot in hell for this_!"

And then everything went white.


	6. Chapter Six: Nothing on the Thorn

**Chapter Six**: Nothing on the Thorns

**Rating**: PG-13

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Feedback**: Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywrited by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

* * *

"_There are occupational hazards to being a god."_

**Rand Alex,**_** Foremost Scientist on the Genesis Project**_**, Closing Arguments**

* * *

**Time**:_ Month of Ichor, Nineteenth Day, 3021 A.F. Hegemony Calendar / February 21st, 6230 C.E. Terran Calendar Plus Twelve Hours from Initial Cylon-Hegemony Contact._

**Place**: _Tenere III, Tenere Epsilon, Large Magellanic Cloud_

* * *

Sand, as far as the eye could see.

A never ending expanse that rushed towards the horizon like a barren ocean without one rock, island or mountain to interrupt its rolling existence.

Unceasing heat cooked the ground, two white orbs rising violently in the sky only helped to raise the ambient temperature.

He gasped and coughed, the pain in his throat increasing as he tried to swallow with a dry mouth.

It had been four days, marching onward through this blistering sauna to an outpost that he almost questioned existed.

But since his ship was now spread over the better part of this planet's northern hemisphere in a million pieces and the escape boat having such horrible navigation thrusters, he was now on a several kilometer trek to his camp.

Thankfully four of his six bodyguard droids had survived landing to accompany him on this excursion.

Somewhere in the distance some kind of insect began to buzz, making him wonder how anything could live on this world.

_Tenere III _was a dry, hot and forsaken world bathed in the light of two highly un-stabled white dwarfs surrounded by a nebula of gamma radiation. It had been deemed a Class-XI danger for settlement by the Department of Survey, Terraforming and Colonization, which in many circles would be considered '_not a chance in hell_' planet to establish a settlement on.

But he didn't intend to settle here.

He just used a small cave on _Tenere III_ as a way-station, somewhere to refuel and hide off the beaten path to avoid the Space Guard patrols and local system pickets.

But it wasn't the patrols that had pursued his ships through the dangerous nebula, right between the double stars and promptly shot him down over this world.

_That cargo could have bought me enough credits to buy four new freighter_s, he fumed to his inner monologue,_ now I'm hiking across a desert with just the clothes on my back._

He was so preoccupied in his thoughts he just happened to notice the far off buzzing was increasing to almost deafening levels, becoming so loud that he couldn't hear himself think over the incessant noise of some native insect in his ear...

It was only when he saw the rush of upswept sand heading in his direction that he understood what was really making that noise.

It certainly wasn't an insect.

The ship had to have been hugging the ground with one hell of a stealth system working to hide it because only the wave of displaced sand signaled its approach. But stealth systems were suppose to hid ships in space, where no one can or wants to hear an engine. So better to appear invisible then soundless.

His droids picked up on the disturbance and quickly circled around, creating a protective barrier around their master as two took point and the others continued to escort him.

To where he didn't know, the camp was still two days walk away.

Two plasma rifles opened fire, screaming loudly in the sun chaffed air, catching the wing of the approaching craft. But its armor was designed to take ship to ship weapons, not handgun to ship. The bolts of energy didn't even mare the hull with a burn mark.

Without so much as a hesitation the vessel shrugged off the hits and returned with its own volley of plasma. Compared to his the droid's weapons were pea shooters against a bomb.

Three globes of superheated ions dropped from above and connected with the sand just before the forward pair of machines, quickly turning the ground to glass unmarred by anything but the two puddles of melting metal bubbling in there center.

This was not good, not good at all.

The shuttle banked over their heads, its AG-field throwing sand into the air as it overshot the group. Two more plasma rifles sprang to life but the ships accession past them was only a diversion to deliver its cargo.

Dropping hard onto the sand, a single white clad figure hit the ground rolling. Without missing a beat the machines rotated their weapons off the rising space craft and opened fire on the arrival.

It took a hard roll to miss the fire spray of plasma and a marksman's eye to pull a pistol and then shot while keeping low to the ground.

A titanium charged round sliced the droid's head right off, leaving only the twitching body to fall onto the sand. Another projectile hit the remaining mechanoid in the torso, sending circuits and servo-fluid spraying everywhere as the droid joined its comrade on the ground.

A midst the entire exchange their controller had done the only logical thing he could, put his head between his legs and try to act as small as possible. It did little as a hard swinging boot connected with his head and he found himself lying on his back, a pistol facing down into his face.

"Daniel Kyle Kane," a booming voice announced from a cream colored helmet. "AKA Danny the K... AKA Red Kane... AKA Precious D... You are hereby under arrest for high crimes against the Hegemony of Sentient Worlds and its allied nations-"

"You can't-" Daniel squirmed as a pair of strong hands wrapped around his wrists and hoisted him upward.

"You are wanted on one hundred and forty one charges of pirating, firing on Hegemony vessels, evading law enforcement officials and smuggling slaves, sugar, cold fusion weapons and other contraband forbidden under the Treaty of Sutra Wales to rebels on _Truoc II_."

"I can pay you!" Kane screamed as a pair of stainless neo-steel handcuffs clapped around his wrists. "Anything you want! Money's no object!"

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, think and excrete can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to attorney upon reaching a Hegemony designated holding facility. You are guilty until proven innocent in front of a jury of your peers. If you do not understand these rights a legal droid will be provided to you."

"Suck my-"

A fist clocked Daniel across the face before he could finish the sentence, sending the unconscious man down to hit the sand hard.

Barely bothering for some clever comeback or the last word to a thrilling hunt, Kane's body was tossed over his captors shoulders as he turned and trekked back to his now waiting shuttle.

Sand gave way to deck platting as he stepped up the gang plank and deposited his quarry a little hard onto the polished floor.

Peeling off his head covering, crimson skin glittered from the sweat of a hard day, his head tentacles unfurling from their tucked position on the back on his skull.

The cool air from the environmental system felt good against his face and he enjoyed it for a second before someone interrupted him.

"_Welcome back, Sentinel_," a crisply accented voice responded. "_I know you wish to decontaminate and secure our prisoner but I have intercepted communication from 95SpinwardαǼ. I think you want to see this_."

Not even bothering to move a holo-screen appeared before the hunter and keen eyes surveyed the brief summary his navigator had happened to 'hear' from a nearby Space Guard fleet.

It was boring facts, battle data at first, but then he noticed it.

This wasn't some pirate group or rebellious group trying to stake a claim to the unsettled world, it was a new sentient species.

And then one fact caught his eye, so careless discarded as simple biological data.

The attackers appeared to be a variation of human...

"Set course for _Magellenic Stellar Command_," he ordered, stowing his helmet and making for the cockpit, "we have a new mission..."

* * *

"Two..."

"_I see them! Are they Colonials_?" another asked.

"One..."

"_They're Cylon_!" the final of the three screamed.

"Mark..."

The final words of one female left behinds would ring in Lee's ears for weeks to come. "_I hope you people rot in hell for this_!"

And then everything went white.

But it wasn't space folding around _Colonial One_; it was the action of it unfolding before them that blinded the two captains.

Like Zeus had opened the heavens and sent Athena bursting forth, the sight of a _Colombia_-class _Battlestar_ jumping in with all guns blazing was enough to paralyze the sixty FTL-ships of the fleet from pressing their jump buttons.

"_This is the Battlestar Theia to President Roslin's fleet_," a man's voice filled the cockpit through the wireless speakers. "_Shut down your jump drives and move your ships behind our firing solution._"

For a moment both Lee and Russo were frozen in place unable to even move. It took a proximity warning alarm from drifting to close to the cargo ship _Thera Sita_ that revved them from their dazed state.

"Cut the jump and pour on the speed," Lee ordered as he brought manual steering online and pushed the throttle up. "We just got a second chance from the Gods."

Most of the fleet followed the sudden orders without question as the massive _Battlestar_ threw itself between the civilians and the Cylons. Four _Raiders_ were nothing when compared to a fully armed Colonial warship and its escorts of sixty _Vipers_ that rapidly launched in succession.

The kinetic energy rounds from the _Battlestar_ ripped into three of the fighters, a wave of bullets that none of them could counteract. One managed to pull out at a steep vertical burst of speed, only to be caught in the sights of eight different _Vipers_ and destroyed.

For a long moment everything seemed to hang in limbo. Lee couldn't believe the sheer luck of a _Battlestar_ coming to their rescue at the last second. The Gods seemed to have a serious sense of humor lately.

"_Theia_ this is _Colonial One_, thank the Lords of Kobol you saved us."

It took a moment for Apollo to realize that as he sat their staring at the glorious sight of the warship hanging in front of them the world was continuing on as Captain Russo gleefully thanked the _Battlestar_ over the wireless.

"_Your more than welcomed Colonial One_," a new female voice responded over the comm. "_We are launching Raptors and shuttles to provide you with emergency aid. Also Commander Dolla would like to meet with the President as soon as possible_."

"I'm sure she'd appreciate that," Russo agreed.

"_Raptor 941 will be ferrying over with him onboard in thirty minutes_," the _Theia_ officer confirmed as the massive craft began to fall in with the ranks of the civilians.

* * *

Far from the frontier, of the unknown space beyond civilization, behind the edge of nothing, a station drifted in the void.

The vast spire that expanded upward and outward from a dot, like a pin before it was topped in a vast dome with eight great arms reaching forth. _Magellenic Stellar Command_ was the center of civilization in the Large Magellenic Cloud.

At seventeen-thousand meters long and with a crew of over half a million she was the largest settlement in the entire Cloud, a port of call that provided critical goods, support and protection to a hundred new colonies springing up across the stellar cluster. Two billion colonist spread over three-thousand cubic light cycle owed their everyday lives to this base.

_Magellenic Stellar Command _after all was the headquarters for the entire stellar cluster, whether military or civilian it would lead them all on behalf of the Hegemony.

And until the new capital building on _Tenrda Mu_ was finished next cycle this was where they had stuck Lesyo Mra, military governor for this entire region of space, for the foreseeable future. Thankfully from what the contractors on the colony had told him/her the new office would certainly be an upgrade over his/her current.

Right now Mra was staring at the report in front of him/her, nor the least bit pleased.

"Can this report be confirmed?" he/she asked, tossing the computer tablet onto the desk.

"Communication drone was authenticated by three different AI's," Insuri Gsee, his personal attaché reported. "It's real."

"The first sentient species we encounter in this entire stellar cluster," Lesyo groaned, unwilling to look at the communication any further as he deactivated the readout, "and they decide to take nuclear pot shots at a civilian science ship that stumbled in on the massacre of another primitive culture. This is going to look great to _Galactic Fleet Headquarters, _especially with the annual Colonization Revenue Board set to meet in only two weeks."

"You think this could be a threat to the entire Project?" Gsee almost whispered it was so threatening.

She was talking about Project Pith, one of the largest colonial ventures the Hegemony had undertaken since the colonization of the Andromeda Galaxy over two-thousand cycles ago. With three core galaxies populated by several hundred trillion beings the nation needed more resources every day, hence the efforts that were now underway to colonize the stellar clusters that orbited the galaxies like distant moons.

But there was one feature that made the Large Magellenic Cloud that made it stand out compared to the other clusters. The Cloud was devoid of all sentient life.

Sure there were plenty of habitable worlds and only some did need serious terraforming, but from that number at least one or two species should have shown something close to sapience. The Milky Way alone had over seventy-thousand sentient races, that was counting those that had naturally evolved, gene engineering, cloning and artificial life only expanded on that number.

In the Large Magellenic Cloud however there was sadly nothing.

Leo A had the warrior Shi'ar Empire.

Canes Dwarf had the psychically small yet highly advance Asgard High Council.

Even the Pegasus Dwarf Irregular Galaxy had those pesky Iratus insects had finally been put down.

Now they finally discover the first sentient creation in this entire frontier cluster and it turns out to enjoy throwing nuclear weapons around like candy.

"Sir/ma'am, we have to consider the danger this poses to the colonization project. The majority of the review board will not be pleased with these developments," Gsee warned. "That sector of space was not set for exploration for another decade but we have over fifty PEMA±P1000 rated colonies that border it and only three combat fleets to cover them. We're dangerously understaffed."

Mra groaned again to him/herself.

Since those damn cephalopods had decided to try and reclaim their 'rightful worlds' only to have the Hegemony rigorously kick their tentacles halfway across the Milky Way for trying, they had been strapped for ships. Now with the rising cold war on the Scarran border the military was spreading itself thin trying to ensure all their flanks were covered.

The Large Magellenic Cloud had been deemed a low threat level for colonization since it lacked any sentient species to challenge their powers. Their combat fleets were a fourth the size they were in other stellar clusters and most of those were crewed by young cadets or misfits of the fleet that needed some boring shakedown time before they could be let back into the main Space Guard.

That same low classification meant the Cloud also had the fastest growing population of the stellar clusters, with no signs of slowing down.

Now they were paying for that fleet doctrine and encouraging danger-free immigration status.

"Okay, route elements of the Twenty First Rim Span Gamma Phi and Seventy Ninth Spineward Delta Omega through _Sandalov Station_," Leyso commanded, "and re-designate several cargo ships to relief efforts. Put out a contract to any independent freighter captains who are approved by the Independent Traders Guild for emergency shipping and any ships not on active duty for the Member Worlds Fleet. Shore up whatever we have left and put together a buffer fleet to cover that sector for the time being. Request backup from _Headquarters..._ I don't care if they complain, we've give up enough of our heavy hitters to the Scarran border so they can spare eight or nine battleships for a few weeks 'til we can shore up our own defenses."

"The Centralized Crisis Organization had also offered four of their bulk transporters to the relief fleet, fully crewed and loaded," Gsee added.

"Okay, but that is it!" the governor growled. "I understand the colonist want to be helpful but I am not packaging up all two billion of them and letting they fly into a battlefield. Donations of supplies will be accepted but personnel and ships will remain with the colonization project. In the meantime deploy a communication drone to _Galactic Fleet Headquarters_, seal and lock for Gold Channel clearance only."

"Yes sir/ma'am," she nodded. "One last thing though. We have a Sentinel at Docking Bay 784. He is requesting information on the Twelve Colonies and Cylons..."

The look that crossed Mra's face was enough to make Insuri stop, utter terror quickly replaced behind a mask of controlled confusion.

"No... no... no," he/she stuttered. "I am not going to send a Sentinel to deal with our first sentient species we have found. All they do is blow things up and get in the way."

"Unfortunately, we have no control over the Sentinel Core," Insuri interjected. "They answer only to the Triumvirates of the Federal Senate and since neither group will know about this situation until that comm. drone is sent, they are independent of even your power."

Sentinels were an elite branch that only answered to the Triumvirates of the Federal Senate, the three chosen yet lifetime leaders Hegemony's representational body, its assembled member nations of the empire and the government's many ministries of power. Triumvirate of War Kirmato Reganeet, a Tymbrimi female, Triumvirate of Diplomacy Sakonna, a Soro male, and Triumvirate of Science Donna Eisenhorn, a _Titan_-born human, were second in influence and reach only to the Empress herself. With an organization that spanned three galaxies, the Senate knew that not everything could be solved by due process and protocol, sometimes working outside the law is what prevented it from being broken.

Meant to safe guard the Hegemony through any means necessary, only one out of a billion military officers were ever chosen for the prestigious posting and after that the most rigorous training washed out even more. By the end barely ten thousand Sentinels were active were at a time, all spread across the face of the empire and sometimes far beyond it.

They answered to no one, had total authority, most laws did not apply to them and only took and heeded orders from the three Triumvirates themselves and no others.

"Why would a Sentinel want in on this?" Mra asked out loud. "I didn't even know we have any in this galaxy."

"From what I could gather both by talking to him and researching the flight plan he filled," Gsee explained, "the Sentinel's last stop was the Psyonics Guild's enclave on _Ashareeravni_."

That only helped to churn his/her stomachs into a very uncomfortable note.

Sentinels were well-known as the reckless cannons that got results where normal channels could not.

Psychics were well-known as the dispensers of ominous threats and omens mixed with half-told truth and just enough information to get you to believe.

"A Sentinel working with Oracles, that can't be good..." Mra sighed. "Just send the damn file, but make it clear he's on his own once he reaches his destination. I do not need to hear about a Sentinel blowing up a solar system... again."

* * *

Adama glared at the massive collection of equipment before him, all the time trying to keep his temper from soaring out of control.

Each of the crates was bundled onto several large transport pallets, each ranging from backpack size carryalls to crates the size of small houses. From small computers to energy conduits, it was all loaded up and ready to move... if most of the wheel treads weren't whittled down to nothing.

"How long's it going to take you to sort this all out, Chief?" the Commander asked to the Chief standing beside him.

"Couple hours at least, sir," the deckhand shrugged. "We gotta bring in our own lifters and cranes... that idiot completely fouled up the station loaders before he kicked the bucket."

"Do what you have to, Chief," the man turned to leave and head back to his command until he suddenly noticed one of the deckhands, a short, smallish girl with a bobbing pony tail, come dashing up. "What is it specialist?"

"There's... there's something you need to see," she waved them on and towards one of the large airlocks off the main core corridors.

Down a short hallway, through a service workroom and into one of the adjoining bays, the found themselves on a catwalk overlooking the ground below.

"What the hell is that Chief?" Adama asked at the strangely shaped vessel on the docking bay floor, a gleaming sliver, angular craft.

"It's a Cylon _Raider_," they turned to see Starbuck hanging over the railing not a far distance away. "The Cylons were aboard this station..."

* * *

"We are still continuing talks with the Norma Arm of the Milky Way to secure more relief aid to the Pryian Occupation Zone!"

Grand Fleet Lord Thorsten Hauser waved off the reporters hounding his heels as again another twist in the corridor didn't seem to shake any of them.

"And do you believe the protests from those colonies," some 'desperate for a quote' asking reporter shoved a holo-camera a little too closely to his face for Hauser's liking, "on the Scutum-Centaurus Arm are unfounded. Their colonies were hardest hit by the former Pryian Annex."

Stopping in his tracks he rounded on the young gray skinned Mizarian male.

"I will never try to down play the suffering of billions of our citizens who lost their homes, livelihood and families in the chaos of the war!" He kept his voice at a control fury. "But the people were the ones that demanded the conquest of Pryian space in retribution for their crimes. Special initiative on the ballot and everything. It is now our responsibility to educate the Pryian people, to help them rebuild their nation to a better tomorrow. By securing these supplies several dozen worlds can be developed to sublet the their farming colonies we destroyed during the conflict, in effect lessening their dependency on our resources in only a short decade instead of increasing it and building resentment on both sides."

"So what are your comments about the federal recall being lodged by Sunmancers Pact and Juagar Deneb Junction," another reporter behind him called out, "that the resources you're requesting could be better used on the Colonization Projects?"

"The Colonization Projects are making leaps and bounds everyday and we have had to make some sacrifices among the colonial holdings in order to get it going," even if he was a military man Hauser knew how to talk politically to these vultures. "But these populations have the tools, knowledge and sheer willpower to make their bright tomorrow a today. The Pryians are demoralized, scattered and improvised because of our invasion. Any citizen can read how without our aid their people will descend into anarchy and eventually turn against us yet again. We need to address the problems they are facing now before they become the wars of the future."

"So do you support Commandant Teliuv's proposal for the extension of the Pryian Occupation Zone's military governance?" the cybernetic arm of a Choblik journalist jabbed a microphone into his face again.

"I-"

"Sir," Thorsten turned quickly towards his interrupting aide, Commander Seskito Mig. "I have a urgent comm. drone from _Magellenic Stellar Command_ on a Gold Channel. I think you'll want to see this."

"Of course," Hauser silently thanked every deity he knew for this well placed interruption.

"Ladies, gentlemen, transgendered and undecided, I must take my leave. Duty calls," and without even a second glance he finally escaped the tireless mass. "Thank you, Seskito."

The two men quickly lost themselves, an easy feat when you considered the fact that they were aboard the largest space-borne facilities in the entire Hegemony. _Space Guard Galactic Fleet Headquarters _was the core of the entire empire's military and as such received the finest technology, a grossly out of control spending fund and the top officers from across the triple galaxy.

Thats what had turned a small, two-mile long space drift into the sprawling megastructure it was today. _Space Guard Galactic Fleet Headquarters_ took on the design of an Alderson Disk, or would when final construction was complete in another three hundred cycles it would. She resembled a massive hub cap, with seven curving arms reaching outward like a starfish. Over 100-thousand kilometers in diameter once she was complete _Space Guard Galactic Fleet Headquarters_ was soon to become one of the greatest monuments of Hegemony engineering in a few short generations, joining such mega-structures as the Forerunner's Ark, the Planetary Repulsors that built the Corellian star system and Rakata Star Forge.

The outer curve of the station shined a glittering chrome exterior so reflective the arms of the Milky Way could be seen orbiting across it like a mirror. Its inner curve of the opposite side was a terraformed environment, the sheer size of the station so massive it could generate its own natural gravity to retain an atmosphere. Small cities dotted her habitable surface but the majority was covered in oceans, forests, even a few deserts.

When she was finished she'd be able to fit the nine _Earths_ from one arm to another... and trillions of citizens would flock to her state of the art facilities. Even now at barely 40-thousand kilometers complete she had a resident population of around two hundred billion, a transient population incalculable after that.

"I wasn't saving you, sir," the officer explained as they entered one of the private transport tubes that interlaced every open section of the floating disk. "We do have an urgent drone from _Magellenic Stellar Command_. Its apparently serious."

"Pass it over," the Fleet Lord asked as the holo-pad fell into his hands. "They really found not one but two sentient races... just in time for one to massacre the other."

"Read about the biological composition of these Cylons and Twelve Colonies," Seskito continued, the stoic Cardassian keeping his eyes forward as his commanding officer read on.

"Human and Human-variant," Hauser whistled. "How the bloody hell did an independent human settlement get all the way out there?"

"Unknown," Mig shrugged at his ignorance, "but I think we need to contact the Solorian Federation. You know how their President will want precedent in this matter."

"Yes, yes," his superior agreed. "Get me a direct line to our top officers on _Earth_ and _Tri Varn_. I'll know the Empress will want a hand in this too."

The transport tube, which up until this point had been obscured by the walls of the outer shaft, broke away to give the two officers an outstanding view of the curvilinear surface of _Galactic Fleet Headquarters_. It was breathtaking, the station disappearing into a horizon of a slowly setting blue giant.

Both remained silent, enjoying the view as they watch thousands of ships from across the triple galaxies and probably far beyond racing and floating past as the transport pod rose the length of the central tower, the highest point at the direct center of the station.

"You're expecting a claim jumper situation?" Seskito finally asked.

It was the worse situation any politician, military officer and colonist had to deal with. The Hegemony was very precise in their colonization efforts. Cycles went in to the planning, deployment and construction of their colonial holdings. You wanted to make sure the planet didn't have any unknown and nasty predators, some hidden plague or a native population that would love to roast an unsuspecting colonist over a fire.

It was an incredibly complex operation to land a colony on a planet, even worse when the colonist arrive to find someone decided to forgo the planning process and just stake their claim to their rock far ahead of him.

Many an ugly court proceeding had been broadcast on the Holo-net of two groups fighting over their rightful claim to a planet in the Supreme Judicial Court.

"Maybe but we'll have to wait for more information in the meantime," Hauser ordered. "Get me those links now..."

* * *

Less than haft an hour later a _Raptor_ pulled into the landing bay alongside Boomer's battered and worn ship. The young lieutenant saluted the passing Commander as she returned to pull a broken gimbals from the undercarriage of the scout ship.

Following the presidential aid that greeted him into the first class cabin, he found himself standing before a smiling woman in her mid forties

"Commander Forman Dolla of the _Battlestar Theia_," the man saluted Laura, the first man ever to truly acknowledge her position since she had assumed power. Already the respect he provide brought Roslin's previous thoughts of the military up considerably.

"Commander, let me just say," she said moving to shake the man's hand, "on behalf of the eighty thousand people on those ships outside, thank you for saving us from ourselves."

"Any time madam President," Forman grinned as Laura gestured to a seat directly across from hers. As he took it he continued to talk. "Lucky we got here when we did, intercepted wireless transmissions said you were going to abandon you sub-lights."

Laura's stomach clenched at the near mention of probably her darkest hour, one that would not be going away any time soon.

"It will probably be the ultimate black mark on my record as President," she quietly admitted as her eyes came back into focus from her little sidetrack into self-loathing, "but I did what I thought was right. If you hadn't arrived the Cylons would have nuked us with little reserve."

"You need not explain," Dolla waved her off. "I started by career in the military as medic during the Southern Riots on _Canceron_. Battlefield triage is something I had to learn young and if I was in your position I would have jumped a lot sooner. Besides with our arrival, most of the civilians on the sub-lights have the sudden option to offload onto the FTL's, few are complaining for fear they will be left behind again."

"It will only be a minor distraction but I will be hearing of this later and paying for it dearly. But we will cross the bridge when we come to it," she quickly moved to change the subject. "In the mean time I have to ask the most burning question, how did you survive the attack on the Colonies?"

"We were part of a fleet composed of the remaining elements of the 23rd, 50th and 9th battlegroups near _Tauron_. The Cylons engages us and heavy losses were taken but just when we thought it all lost an amazing thing happened. Don't know what came about, one minute we preparing for a retreat jump to _Virgon_ when the Cylon ships just froze and started drifting," the awe at the sheer luck wasn't lost on Laura as he continued his story. "We had little to do other then use the chance of freedom to launch a spread of nukes and destroy them."

Little did either of them know was that four infiltration AI's from the _Machinery of the Mind_ had delighted in the bout of unconcealed sabotage to the Cylons. By simply inserting a paradoxical program into the hybrids of the _Basestars,_ they had caught the computers in an infinite loop, unable to comprehend a simple problem to the point where all processing power was devoted to solving it and the ship finally shutdown.

"With Admiral Sotho killed with the _Battlestar Acheron_," Dolla recounted, "Commander Caracalla on the _Juno_ took control of our fleet. He ordered us out here to provide you protection while he secures _Tauron_ space."

"He is probably the first in the military to acknowledge my claim to power then," Roslin said.

She was a bit suspicious of this Commander Caracalla, after much of the Colonial brass had simply ignored or ridiculed her, to have one finally working for her seemed a little too good to be true.

"Caracalla is a patriot," Forman defended, in a voice that seethed logic. "His father was Quorum representative for _Caprica_ a decade ago and most of his family works in the government. If any order comes from the rightful leader of the Colonies, he'll uphold it."

Not wanting to alienate the only military ship that had come to their rescue Laura threw that route of conversation out the airlock and moved onto another topic. "How many _Battlestars_ are with Commander Caracalla right now?"

"Four," the commander counted them off. "The _Battlestars Hera, Lelex, Aegeus_ and _Medea_. We originally had eleven but two were lost to the Cylons, one was crippled and we left her in _Tauron_ orbit and the four remaining were sent to help with the fight near _Picon_. If we finish transferring the people off the sub-lights we can be there in an hour or two. I know the Commander is eager to meet with you."

"I don't think that would be wise Commander," Roslin disagreed. "Your superior officer is engaged in military action above a Colony under heavy attack. If we jump into orbit we'd be risking this convoy in a dangerous battlefield. I don't want to take eighty thousand people right in unless I know they are safe. Our plan was to jump to_ Ragnar Anchorage_ where the _Battlestar Galactic_a is rearming. It is our hope to use the facility's remote location and hostile environment as a safe haven to bring civilian ships to."

In reality she had little intent of flying the only known civilian fleet left right into the firing range, especially as the military had been so erratic lately. She could not vouched universally they would be safe from either side if an engagement started. Plus the Cylon's knew the Colonies well from their strategic carpet bombings of them, to put a fleet in orbit would be inviting further attacks on those worlds.

By hiding around an obscure outer gas giant where the chances of a Cylon force finding them were small was there best bet.

"We'll madam President, my orders were to assist you and bring you back to the Commander but there was no time table attached," Dolla elaborated. "_Theia_ was purposely sent because we are fully stocked for extended duty but we lack the major firepower that would make us a prime target like a _Mercury-_class _Battlestar_ would. If you wish I have a dozen _Raptors_ that can be deployed to help with your rescue and recovery efforts. "

"Thank you, Commander. I'm sure Lieutenant Valerii would appreciate your help since she has been doing this all by herself," the good pilot would love some support but rescue efforts were being scaled back on her order. "But time is against us. When the Cylons realize we destroyed their _Raiders_ their going to send more."

"My _Raptors_ and a few shuttles we were carrying are already organized and shipping people off the sub-lights while we land any of the smaller ships inside the flight pods," Commander Dolla outlined. "We don't have time to evacuate them all, so we're going to lock them down inside the _Theia_, jump and offload them later at our leisure."

"That could make a difference but we have almost thirty sub-lights and even with some packing we won't have enough room to support them all," it was another stalemate for Roslin, picking and choosing who lived and who died and she hated it. "My military advisor, Captain Apollo, already came up with the idea before you docked but speculated that only three to five ships could fit inside each flight pod and those are just the ones that can land."

"Which is the reason why I made a short stop over before jumping here," Forman nodded, fishing an old style pocket watch from the front button of his uniform and glancing at the time. "If you look out your window you should see them... right... about... now. "

Roslin only had to wait one long blink before Dolla's prophecy came true.

Eleven new contacts jumped in above the fleet, slowly descending down over the flotilla of civilian ships.

Even at this distance she could make out a _Flattop-_repair frigate, three _Defenders-_class corvettes, two _Colonial Mover-_type cargo ships, three old medivac transports and an even an ancient Sagittaron _Warbird-_cruiser slowed back into normal space as they fell in line behind the _Botanical Cruiser_.

But coming in last of these was the largest ship Laura had ever laid her eyes on.

The _Cloud Eleven._

The sight of her made Laura's mouth go dry and eyes go wide.

She was the big sister to their own _Cloud Nine_ trailing at the back of the fleet.

In her heyday she had transported the elite of the Colonies from port to port, almost ten thousand passengers and crew at full capacity. Currently she was carrying a third of her normal load after she had been caught at _Libris_ with her passengers in disembarking procedures.

"Caracalla knew you'd need help in your evacuation so he ordered us to make a stop off at the fleet mothball yard near _Pitcher's Moon_," Dolla explained as Laura almost pressed her nose against the cold glass to get a better view of the newcomers. "Found the _Cloud Eleven_ trying to salvage spare parts there. Teaming with her, we managed to activate ten other ships, fueled and crewed them before we jumped here. The _Defenders_ are neutered of their weapons and the _Movers_ are empty of cargo but they have jump drives and space for civilians to fill."

Laura could barely believe the luck. The _Movers_ alone could hold almost six hundred people each, the _Defenders_ almost a thousand and the_ Cloud Eleven..._ well she could have solved their entire population problem alone.

For once in a long day something finally was going good for humanity.

"Then let's get to work Commander," Laura said as she sprung up with renewed vigor, "we have thirty ships to off load and a trip to _Ragnar_ to re-plan."

* * *

The air was still filled with smoke and dust, the kind of dry smell that left a horrible taste in your mouth no matter how much you tried not to breath. Other than the crackle of some far off fires and the occasional crumbling of some weakened concrete in the distance.

It was hard to imagine this had been a busy spaceport merely an hour ago.

The nuke hadn't even been intended for the facility, Hammerville had been its target and only a cracked line of limestone hills that segmented the spaceport from the city had spared it the brunt of the superheated explosion… but still the eruption had leveled the entire complex.

Stumbling over the hills of debris, Helo couldn't help but be dumbstruck by the absolute destruction. When he had last been here this place had been packed full of people, shoving, pushing and screaming to get inside.

Now it was an empty field of nothing.

"Can anybody hear me!" he shouted, waiting for a response and feeling the sickening drop in his stomach when nothing came. "ANYBODY!"

"Help!" a voice echoed through the dust and for a moment Helo wondered if he was hallucinating. "Over here!"

Turning towards the noise he spotted her, waving her hands wildly to get him to notice her from the side of the rubble hill she was lying against. As he rushed to get closer he noticed why she was lying the way she was.

"I got stuck," she gasped as she tried to pull at a foot trapped between two rocks. "Get me out of here… please…"

"What's your name?" he asked as he took one hand and wrapped it around the looser of the two stones.

"D'Anna," she answered as Helo took a chance prying the rock away. "D'Anna Biers... I was reporting on... I am a reporter."

The rock gave way and a D'Anna breathed a terrible sigh of relief for the freedom on her limb now.

"Thank you," she blessed him with a hug before rubbing her wore and throbbing leg. "Thank you so much."

"HELO!" he turned in time to see Cavil come racing over the rubble towards him. "Helo are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he nodded as the man approached him. "Just helping my-"

A cough caught his ears, something that would have gone unnoticed if the air wasn't so quiet and empty.

"Did you hear that?" he was up and running, crawling over the rubble, trying to find where this new voice was coming from.

A body... not just a body... Baltar... Gaius was trapped under a beam, glazed eyes staring skyward with tears brimming at his eyes.

"He's breathing," Helo coughed as the dust caused his eyes to water. "Help me get this beam off of him."

Reaching down he wrapped his fingers around the broken column and with all his strength he tried to wrench it free from the young doctor's body. For a second it refused to budge an inch but then with considerable pressure on his park, it began to slowly move…

The scream of an engine overhead took him by surprise, forcing Helo to shot his eyes skyward to catch the glimpse of a Heavy Raider soaring through the sky above him.

"They're landing more troops," Cavil shouted as he snatched his shoulder and began to pull him away. "We have to go now!"

"We can't just leave him!" Helo yelled back, unwilling to just walk away from a person that could be helped.

"No time!" the man wrenched him away. "We go now or we all die!"

Reluctantly Helo turned to follow, shooting a concerned look back towards the unmoving body, hoping for just an instance there was something he could do, some way to save Baltar.

There was nothing he could do...

* * *

"They're heading for the evacuation transports!"

A wave of fighters slide through the flak field and rushed the five pleasure liners that had broken the atmosphere. Three managed to tax their FTL drives and two jump to safety, the last suffered a power overload and exploded violently. The left over pair panicked and went evasive but were quickly chased down.

Sprays of hot bullets slashed the vessels and lacking anything close to combat armor, it left angry red holes in the crafts as each disappeared into a blast of energy.

"Pull the _Beholder_ and _Dusk_ back to cover those ships," the captain ordered as he watched another evacuation shuttle disappear from his screens, shot down before it could make its escape. "Is evacuation complete?"

"Sixty percent," an unseen cadet reported. "Shuttles are loaded, most are clearing the troposphere now. Three thousand people left!"

"Too slow," he muttered as another missile impacted and sent several consoles sparking from the resulting overload feedback. "Order the secondary elements to advance, put more fighters on interception."

"Sir, we lost the Commandant Jones' ship," a communication tech yelled, he couldn't see her through the smoke that filled the room.

"Damn," he cursed, knowing this battle is quickly dissolving into a free for all. "Order heavy units to push forward, support groups provide cover fire. I want to have-"

"_Captain Relbbircsrebu_," the AI's voice echoed in his ears, interrupting Captain Lora Yega'nh Vorn Relbbircsrebu XI's virtual simulation. "_You have a communication from Magellenic Stellar Command_."

Everything froze and the words '_PAUSE_' floated across his field of vision.

"Put it through, Magenta," Relbbircsrebu said as he disconnected from his holographic war game and reentered the reality of his quarters. Stark white walls unscarred by battle damage and smoke replaced the scene of his ruined C&C.

Pulling the VR-disk off his forehead, he pushed up from the lounge chair and crossed his living room to the holographic screen that floated on the far side of the cabin. It easily detected his presence and activated his waiting transmissions.

"_Captain Relbbircsrebu_," the image of Governor Mra appeared on the screen as he approached, the Nadira looked particularly flustered. "_I'm sorry to have to pull your ships off of shore leave but we have a Code 91_."

A Code 91 came as a shock to Relbbircsrebu.

It was usually reserved for times when two local powers had decided to enter into a MAD situation, mutually assured destruction, and the Hegemony had decided to intervene to stop a catastrophic loss of life.

But this was the Large Magellenic Cloud, the most boring and uneventful frontier Relbbircsrebu had ever served on. It couldn't be true; the only thing native to this region of space was space dust.

Who would decided to hold a total genocide in their own backyard?

"Situation?" he asked of the man/woman.

"_Unknown hostiles attacked a civilian science vessel in sector twelve by two by three_," the Governor explained as a report detailing the situation further began to download below him.

"_The 95SpinwardαǼ engaged currently but gained information on an Class-One genocide in progress. Admiral Volaska decided to intervene but requires support_."

"I'm sorry sir/ma'am, but eight of my ships are in overhaul," Relbbircsrebu announced. "I have twelve ready to go but their crews are scattered from here to the Andromeda Galaxy enjoying their R&R. It's going to take me at least three days to get most of them back."

This was the worst possible time for a mission.

The 79SpinwardΔΩ had just come off a cycle long silent patrol along the frontier colonies. That was months without any major outside contact, no supply runs and going weeks without landing on any colony world. His crew needed their rest and his ships need some serious time in space-dock.

Being asked after two days of vacation to get back to work was not going to go over well with the crew. They wouldn't say anything about it but most of them were looking forward to three months off.

But when _Stellar Command_ issued an Order 91 they had to respond.

"_We know your situation_," Mra accepted, "_and we're redirected ships from the 21RimS_ϒ_π, they are being placed under your command. 21ΔΛCoreD is also being put together to buffer that sector until Galactic Fleet Headquarters deploys a reserve unit to us. In the meantime, you are to proceed to the 95SpinwardαǼ's last known location and reinforce his fleet in the operatio_n."

"Yes sir/ma'am," Relbbircsrebu nodded.

"_One last thing, Captain_," Mra stopped him from deactivating the link. "_You'll be having a Sentinel along with you_."

Relbbircsrebu froze.

What in all twelve dimensions of hell would have a Sentinel in the Large Magellenic Cloud?

The seriousness of the situation now weighed in on him all the more and any reason he had to question this mission went out of his mind.

"Received Governor," Relbbircsrebu accepted, "we will accommodate him."

Mra nodded before the link terminated, leaving a bewildered Relbbircsrebu behind.

Why the hell would a Sentinel want in on this mission?

If one of those super-soldiers was going then why send a Space Guard combat group capable of sterilizing the surface of a populated planet in under two minutes?

A Sentinel was far more dangerous...

* * *

The shops were open late tonight, people crowding the tight walkways and the smells of something delicious yet spicy overpowered his senses.

It almost made Apollo forget there was a war on.

Moving down the concourse he paged through the report in his hands, trying as he might to not be distracted by all the... normalcy.

Beside him Billy Keikeya had to duck and dodge many of the passerby's, almost tripping over his own feet trying to keep up with the Captain.

"How long until we can recharge those batteries on the _Botanical Cruiser_?" Apollo asked, never even looking back towards the kid behind him.

"Captain Wells says the _Adriartic_ will be to them in the hour," Billy stammered, "once they reboot the jump computer on _Colonial One_."

Lee had to groan inwardly to himself. Why were they fixing that pretty speed boat when the barge overloaded with families was beyond him. He guessed the most likely answer was the fact that it gave something for the people to look for, a symbol that the government and the Colonial way of life wasn't dead.

_Theia's_ engineering crew had managed to pull her computer back together, at least for a little while longer until its systems again decided to knock themselves offline.

Thankfully _Cloud Eleven_ was functioning at peak efficiency.

She was one of the premier ships of Cloud Line Enterprises, the largest pleasure passenger service in the Colonies. While most of the ships it owned followed the classic one dome attached to a main tear dropped shaped body, the _Cloud Eleven_ was a long cylinder with three oval domes along its port, starboard and aft portion. She was the largest ship currently in Colonial space, almost twice the length of a _Colombia_ _Battlestar_ at over nine-thousand feet from stem to stern.

The fact that she was last of her class too made her all the more imposing. Her sister ships, the _Cloud Thirteen_ and _Twenty_, were reported destroyed while trying to evacuate civilians from _Scropia_. She was now a lone behemoth among the ants.

"Captain Reesehold says their almost finished with the _Titus_' passengers," the Presidential aide who Roslin had 'graciously' loaned to him added, "and _Baynard_ is already being scuttled."

"Fine," Lee nodded again as he continued to page through the report. "That was the last of the sub-lights and six more are locked down on _Theia_. How are the civilians taking it?"

"Scared and that is working to our advantage," Billy supplied. "The fear of being left behind a second time has managed to quiet most of them."

"Great," Apollo's disinterest in the situation was bluntly obvious to Billy.

"Sir," the younger man finally spoke up, noticing his companion's disinterest. "I don't mean to pry but why did you request the passenger manifest if you're not really looking at it?"

"Gianne Lalonde," the captain muttered to himself, "cabin T920."

"Sir?" Billy questioned.

"Give me a couple minutes," Apollo quickly stammered as he handed over the passenger manifest, "radio if you need me."

Before Keikeya could understand what was happening Adama was gone, rushing through the concourse and down the nearest escalator, into the bowels of the ship.

Ten minutes later Apollo was knocking feverishly on cabin T920, impatiently balancing from foot to foot like a child waiting for Colonial Day to come.

"Excuse me," a man's voice echoed in the empty hallway behind Apollo, "can I help you?"

The pilot turned to find a steward with an arm full of bath towels in his arms, a clean cart not far behind him. His name tag hint that his name was Graham Monroe.

"Where was the woman that was in this cabin?" Apollo asked.

"Ms. Lalonde?" clearly Graham knew her if he knew her name. "She disembarked at _Anlad Transit Station_ over _Libran_ just before the attack. I don't believe she was among those that returned."

Lee's face was a dead pane expression.

"Are you sure?" he asked, defeat and depression ebbing in his voice.

"Updates are going to take a while," Monroe shrugged, trying to offer a helping word to a man obviously trying to find a friend or family member. "We're taking on the sub-light's passengers so the current manifest is going to take a while. Though the young woman would have returned to her cabin by now, especially with her infant."

"A baby," Lee's head shot up at the man's comment. "She had the baby..."

"A little boy, very sweet they were," Graham smiled. "I'm sorry but I have to finish my rounds. If there is anything else you need please feel free to contact one of the other stewards or myself."

Graham bowed to Lee before turning and depositing the towels he was carrying onto the cleaning cart and rolling the squeaking instrument away, leaving a crushed Lee to slouch up against the cabin door.

She had had the baby with her. She had kept the baby.

Why wouldn't she. When they had gotten engaged she had talked nothing but about children, a conversation he generally avoided until she announced barely six months before her wedding she was pregnant.

The resulting fallout had forestalled their marriage and driven Lee to take the decommissioning ceremony on _Galactica_. Better to be with his distant father before he became one himself.

But while onboard she had sent a radio message...

_Meet me on Libris when you're ready._

Just those words were enough to distract him, to make him believe this could work. She had booked a ticket on the _Cloud Eleven_... a trip she had followed through with apparently.

"_Captain Apollo_," his radio crackled with the sound of Billy's voice. "_We're about to jump to Ragnar in the hour. The President would like you to be on Colonial One when that happens_."

"Understood," he acknowledged, pulling himself up and moving on his way.

There was nothing left for him here, but he had a duty out there to finish...

Forty-five minutes later, just under the one hour mark, the empty space above the turbulent blue gas giant sparkled with multiple jumps. At the forefront _Colonial One_ led the convoy, as the _Theia_ coasted overhead, a mother bear watching year cubs.

The fleet was arriving at _Ragnar_.

Captain Apollo and Russo, joined by President Roslin standing behind them, all had to fight back the sense of claustrophobia they all felt as their ship jump back into normal space at the forefront of their fleet. The immense bulk of _Theia_ appeared a moment later as the mighty ship turned to hang over the entranceway of the passage to the station.

"_Theia will remain at the eye's entrance to guard against any intrusions_," Commander Dolla's voice responded as the ship began to deploy _Vipers_ and _Raptors_ to escort them inside. "_You get the civilians through the storm and make contact with Galactica_."

"Understood Dolla," Lee responded as he pointed the nose of _Colonial One_ down into the maelstrom of blue clouds. "We will send someone out to inform you when we're make contact."

* * *

"_Delta Two-Nine-Six come about,_" the crackle of orders filled the airwaves._ "Cover the Dynamic's port flank_."

"_Delta Two-Nine-Six coming about,_" the pilot radioed as his fighter banked over the crippled remains of a nearby _Basestar._ "_Hotbox and Fishcake follow on my wings. Let's show these mech heads what a real fight is_."

Above them the forward plasma cannons of the _Dynamic Year _flared to life, slicing through a nearby _Basestar_. The ship detonated into a nuclear sun just as two more jumped in to take its place.

Whatever the case seemed to be the Cylons want this particular world decimated.

The _Dynamic_ had already been forced to make six different combat jumps in _Caprica's_ orbit to deal with the number of battles going on. Being inside the gravity well of the planet was starting to tax the FTL coils and if something didn't give on either side of the fight the engineers were going to have to replace most of main drive coils.

She was going to need a serious overhaul onboard the _Hope_ after this.

The newcomer _Basestars_ waited no time before opening fire on not only the Space Guard ship but world and its people below. It caused Captain Lawbaaut's stomachs to turn when he watched as flaming cloud blossom on the surface below, another nuke had made it through their point defense lasers. Sensors reported that the huge city that had flourished on a seaside coast had just become nothing in an instant, two million lives gone in seconds.

"Blow those damn ships out of the sky!" he ordered towards Adela.

"Pleasure!" the Human woman was more than obliged to open up with a full spread of missiles.

"Harrison!" Lawbaaut called out as the shipboard computer blinked into existence before him. "Do you have any more information on that civilian convoy yet."

"_I'm sorry, Captain_," the male hologram informed him, "_but I have lost the signal_."

"Did the Cylons reach them?" the very thought that just as they had discovered a surviving convoy only to have it nuked to high heaven made him tighten up inside.

"_I don't believe so_," the AI shock his head, dispelling Lawbaaut's worries. "_My last report showed they were preparing to abandon their sub-lights crafts to make an emergency jump but then I noted an increase in comm chatter. Whatever happened they stalled for almost another three hours before jumping_."

"Sensors did detect the arrival of several contacts," Commander Fabian reported as she came up beside him to hand over a dossier from Fleet Command. "However at this distance I couldn't get solid silhouettes."

"What we do know is that seventy jump events were detected," Ensign Marlop added, "and I am reading sixteen derelict ships now abandoned about twenty light minutes out."

"Which is probably why Fleet Command just received intelligence that Cylon fighters are beginning to scout the outer solar system for a Colonial safe harbor," Lawbaaut explained as he strolled down the report Remraf had given him. "They want us to redeploy our scout drones and haft our fighter squads to find this sanctuary before they do and make contact. A President Laura Roslin is supposedly the one in charge of this gathering."

"We have Ahmose, Thutmose, Ramesses and Merneptah squads in the air," Timov ordered as he changed the holo-tank to highlight the fighter squadrons.

"Ensign Gwant," Captain Ocsab called out to the green Hork-Bajir at communications, "get me Thutmose and Merneptah. I want them ready for a wide range dispersal scouting mission."

Like all the other fighter squadrons aboard _Dynamic_, Thutmose squadron was christened after famous Egyptian military commanders. They were named after Pharaoh Thutmose III, sixth Pharaoh of the Eighteenth Dynasty who in his twenty-two cycle reign led campaigns over north Syria to the Nile in Nubia. He established the largest empire Egypt had ever seen before his death in 1425 B.C.

Having one of the premier fighter squadrons in the Large Magellenic Cloud was a small honor compared to some of the work this man had accomplished.

The leader of the group was Delta Two-Nine-Six or Jorden 'Kicker' Blair, who at the moment was bringing his fighter into linear alignment with the _Dynamic _could hear over his comm the grating voice as a communication filtered into his helmet.

"_Ok lawn darts, listen up_," Gniod signaled from the warship. "_Thutmose and Mernptah, you're going on scouting for some Colonial civvies, Ahmose and Ramesses, your picking up the slack and making sure no bandits make it past this hen house_."

"Roger that _Dynamic_," he acknowledged. "And T'narg let me just be the first to say as a native of Earth, stop using that damn 21st century jargon!"

_"Just trying to learn about a new culture, sir_," the herbivore clicked, his beak couldn't form laughter so it sounded like that. "_Now get your birds together and jump_."

"Understood but if I hear either _'dude'_ or _'that's gay'_, I will personally make sure to land this bird on top of you when we get back to the hen house," switching off the main frequencies he continued to communicate to his squad. "Ok gang, you heard the human-loving tree sucker, coordinate your onboard navigation computers for scouting and activate your stealth armor."

Once the rest of the squad confirmed they were ready the thirty fighters of Thutmose squad broke formation and jumped.

They had little idea they'd be jumping into the worse flight of their lives.

* * *

His head hurt… badly…

Whatever had hit him it had been worse than any cocktail he had the misfortunate of trying and no matter how much he tried to will it down, it only felt like it was getting worse by the second.

"Mmmm," he groaned, trying to move his arm to rub at his throbbing forehead but found his arm refused to move.

More it couldn't move, something had pinned his arm to the ground and every time he tried to move it he found the tight confines it was inside of it barely worth a few centimeters of space.

Slowly opening his eyes he tried to focus, but everything held a blur over it, almost dizzying as everything wobbled and shook with some kind of vibrancy.

He had his back to the ground; he knew that much from the hard surface pressing into his backside, and the dirty sky above him. The rumble of far off thunder hinted that rain was coming and if he remembered anything from school, it was never a good idea to be outside when it rains, the nuclear fallout was even more concentrated in rain water.

Something stepped into his line of sight, a bright blur that was human in form but blue in color.

"Tork!" a female voice shouted, though already her voice was starting to fade in his ears. "We have a survivor. Get a med kit and an anti-gravity unit now! We have another survivor."

A hand touched his face, a cool glove smoothed the hair and dirt out of his eyes, though everything was still a blur.

"What is your name?" the voice asked. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Gaius..." his voice was distant and hoarse. "Gaius Baltar..."

* * *

The Combat Information Center or CIC was the nerve center of any _Battlestar_, taking on the role as C&C of their Space Guard counterparts. Designed in a fairly circular like fashion deep in the interior of the alligator head, the CIC was a large two level complex, which controlled all the tactical, and navigation aspects of the warship.

The primary station of the room was the command and control station, center to which the information management table sat in a hexagonal formation while a number of dradis and readout screens hung from above it. Here the XO and the commander had a full 360-degree view of the command center.

Right now Lieutenant Gaeta was using the nearby phone to take a call. "Copy that," the tactical officer announced as he hung up the device before turning to his XO Colonel Tigh. "Chief says we're looking at an hour minimum before we have all the warheads in our magazines."

A scruffy and exhausted looking Saul Tight only nodded, leaning across the command station as he continued to read the station's manifest they had just finally found. "Book says there's also fifty tons of-"

He was interrupted as _Galactica's_ proximity alarms began to sound and crews raced to their stations.

"We have multiple contacts coming down through the storm towards the _Anchorage_," Gaeta yelled from across the CIC. "Looks like more than seventy ships."

"Cut us loose from the station," Saul ordered in the absence of Commander Adama who was below deck in sickbay getting stitched up. "Launch the alert fighters! Set condition one throughout the ship. Prepare to launch-"

"Wait... wait," communications officer Anastasia 'Dee' Dualla stopped Tigh in the middle of his sudden burst of command clarity. "I'm getting Colonial signals now."

"Confirm that," Saul yelled as he started to approach the communication center where the young lady was sitting. "Don't just accept friendly ID."

"Confirmed, sir," Dualla confirmed after a few heated moments. "Incoming ships are friendly. Seventy-eight civilian ships lead by the_ Battlestar Theia_."

Grabbing the intercom the colonel ordered action stations to stand down as Anastasia continued her assessment.

"The lead ship is requesting permission to come alongside, sir," Dualla announced. "They say... they say they have the President of the Colonies aboard."

"Grant the request," Tigh allowed. "I'm sure the old man is going to love this."


	7. Chapter Seven: Reverberations

**Chapter Seven**: Reverberations and Retreats

**Rating**: PG-13

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Feedback**: Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywrited by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

* * *

"_Humans are the most numerous species in the entire Hegemony and with good reason. They gave the universe the gift of FTL without ever asking for a price. They negotiated the end of hundreds of wars and never asked to be the first signing name. Their people founded this very empire and when we asked if they wanted their homeworld as the capital they could have cared less. Humans are by far the most advanced, civilized and noble race ever to evolve in the entire cosmos. The only thing that can throw their angelic nature out the window is something that many races have come to regret the moment they make this critical mistake. Never and I repeat never, insult a human's mother..."_

**Chapter 119,329.6, **_**Noopsrehtiw's Xeno-biological Guide to Milky Way Sentients**_**, Humanity and You Section.**

* * *

**Time**:_ Third Month of Ichor, Twenty First Day, 3021 A.F. Hegemony Calendar / March 3rd, 6230 A.D. Terran Calendar Terran Calendar Plus Sixteen Hours from Initial Cylon-Hegemony Contact._

**Location**: _Picon, Twelve Colonies of Kobol, Cyrannus Solar System_

* * *

_Picon_ was a watery world; the majority of the planet was 80-percent water. If it wasn't for the extensive volcanic network that webbed her equator, the vast planetary oceans would be too deep to support any kind of terrestrial life. These superheated geothermal vents had over thousands of years created thousands of tiny tropical islands held tightly around _Picon's_ center, creating a startling ring of green in an endless expanse of blue.

Yet now that green was slowly being consumed, the energy from the exploding Cylon nuclear missiles creating a terrifying number of forest fires as a byproduct from destroying every population center on the planet.

The glittering white sand beaches of Welco, the winding Keph River, even the snow capped slopes of Blair Mountain, disappeared in hellfire. Beauty could no longer save their once awestruck tourists.

High above the carnage a single _Basestar_ sat over the Colony. Another wave of nukes fired from her upper arm's base, the twelve missiles rushing down to the world below as their exhaust trails created a spider web around their mothership.

"I have three _Battlestars_ rapidly approaching from _Picon's_ southern pole," a Eight reported. "Intelligence reports suggest it's the _Mercury_-class _Ancona_ and _Heracles_, and the _Hood_-class _Sestus_."

"Move _Basestar Alpha 91 _and _Delta 21_ into position," the commanding Six ordered. "Order _Raiders_ to cover the clean up."

If everything went according to plan these _Battlestars_ would be quickly dealt with and the sterilization of the human race would continue.

Flip a switch and you had one dead _Colonial Battlestar_... or _Viper_... or planet.

Total Cylon victory was assured.

"_Progress reports arriving,_" the voice of the hybrid continued to report in the background, even if her words were falling into an annoying lull. "_The farms of Aerilon are burning. The beaches of Canceron are burning. The plains of Leonis are burning. The jungles of Scorpia are burning. The pastures of Tauron are burning. The harbours of Picon are burning. The cities of Caprica are burning. The oceans of Aquaria are burning. The courthouses of Libran are burning. The forests of Virgon are burning. The temples of Gemenon are burning. The factories of Sagittaron are burning. But still the colonies of man fight, still the angels of unknown strike the infinite children. The plan lies trampled at our feet._"

She tried to ignore those final words but still they burned inside of her.

The Colonials were fighting back, they were losing ground and having to fight for every inch of space, every ounce of air... as Six conversed with a group of Threes on which _Picon_ military installation they should move onto next, the frantic voice of the Eight called out in the command center.

"Sir! _Basestar Alpha 91_ is offline!" she desperately yelled "_Delta_ is losing power!"

Six quickly thrust her hand into one of the liquid data-feeds and linked with the system. Sure enough watched a replay of the _Basestar_ pair rapidly approaching the three Colonial warships. A bubble of _Vipers _surrounded the Colonials, almost as if hornets were protecting the bears.

And on command, just like the Eight had said, _Basestar Alpha 91_ acknowledged it was transmitting the malware package and then suddenly went dead. _Basestar Delta 21_ began to drift too, its main engines failing as its running lights started to flicker. Almost two hundred _Raiders_, linked to their command vessel for information and tactical updates, went erratic as they slowly started to switch off, sending the great ships and their protectors into a ballet of the dead.

"_Heracles_ is opening fire!" a far off Two announced and Six could only watch in morbid fascination as one of the distant _Battlestars_ let loose.

Six kinetic rounds hit _Basestar Delta 21_ head on, tearing a chunk out of the craft's central pylon as secondary explosions detonated one of her arms.

_Sestus_ wasted no time either as a nuke hit _Basestar Alpha 91_, the massive ship breaking apart as a small sun pressed it out of the way.

"Bring Units-Alpha-Two and Alpha-Ten online and route them towards the Colonials!" Six ordered but already the approaching _Battlestars_ had their firing solutions primed.

Three salvos of kinetic energy rounds hit the forward most _Basestars_, Six's ship being one of them.

She grappled onto her station and held her hand firm within the information liquid network but several of her sisters were not as lucky. _Basestar Gamma 83_ was returning fire, _Basestars Delta 11_ and _Omega 09 _supporting her. _Gamma 92_ was reporting heavy damage to their reactor core and were requesting permission to retreat and repair the device at a safe distance. _Basestar Alpha 16_ was no longer transmitting and from it's rapidly falling descent into _Picon's_ upper atmosphere Six had to guess she had suffered the same fate as _Alpha 91_ and _Delta 21_.

"Deploy all units into scatter formation," Six ordered as the other remaining four _Basestars_ responded instantly with a wave of nukes.

_Heracles_ shrugged off the hit but _Ancona_ visibly took damage as part of her starboard side peeled away under fire.

_Raiders_ and _Vipers_ now clashed in the space around the behemoths, tiny explosions peppering the battleground as dozens of Cylon and Colonial pilots met their ends.

_Ancona_ rotated, bringing her ventral side to face the Cylon warships, the flaming gash in her side burning like a flaming halo around her. With a resounding boom that Six swore she could hear all the way inside of the command center the _Battlestar_ let loose a surge of flak fire.

Dozens of point defense cannons laid down a line of destruction that nothing could pass, many _Raiders_ entering the battle suddenly found themselves blasted into cyberspace nothing. _Sestus_ and _Heracles_ flanked her, using the flak field as cover while they continued to lob more nukes and kinetic rounds at the Cylon fleet.

_Basestar Gamma 92_ finally lost reactor containment and exploded, the blast sending an piece of her lower arm spiraling into _Basestar Omega 09_, severely damaging the sister ship.

"Bring us around!" Six ordered to the Twos on flight control, "move us to bracket them."

"Speed increasing," a Three called from the other side of the command center. "_Delta 11_ is moving to intercept."

"Prepare to deploy the viral package the moment were in range!" she commanded, hoping that the malware program would be able to do some real damage to these Colonials once they were in their sights.

"Viral program is active," Eight announced, "transmitting now."

"_Initiating scan_," the hybrid reported over the loudspeakers. "_Fallen from grace are those of many of the same mask. Viral upload is lifting like doves in data. Handshake of the-"_

Like a switch had been flipped the entire _Basestar_ went dead, plunging the command center into darkness. _Raiders_ launching from her bays drifted off into space, Centurions went limp and collapsed at their posts, the Hybrid screamed in anguish so loud every Cylon on board heard it... and then night.

"What the frak happened?" Six scream, in confusion but more in terror.

She never got an answer as _Ancona_ completed its target acquisition and fired two nukes as the drifting _Basestar_.

The uranium tipped devices hit the craft top and bottom, crushing the vessel between two superheated shock-waves.

_Basestar Omega 09_ tried to assume command of the other two _Basestar_ but were no match as a strike wing of _Raptors_ roared past her _Raider_ screen and dropped a dozen heavy ordinance onto their heads, crippling the warship and killing its command crew before they could whip their forces back into formation.

The battle quickly dissolved as one _Basestar_ made an emergency jump retreat and _Basestar Omega 09_ and a sister ship dissolved into debris.

Total Cylon victory was now a distant memory.

* * *

"...and while the Schijonkio War was just a prelude to the extended era of conflicts that made up the Epoch of Torment, it actually sparked the beginnings of the Hegemony centuries before it's actual foundation."

A hand shot up in the air, a young Reol girl asking to be noticed even if her yellow eyes and skull-like face didn't make her stand out in the lines of students around.

"Yes, Cadet Sre'Poc," he nodded in her direction, the woman quickly dropping her hand and leaning over her desk.

He tried not to notice how her uniform clung to a body that he could only associate with victims of starvation, or the way her arms flexed more bone then muscle under that strained skin.

"But Professor Gunderson," she asked with a lilt tone in her voice, her beak like lips snapping over her tongue, "why associate such a horrible war with the establishment of a peaceful star spanning empire? The forefathers of the Hegemony ultimately ended the war by exterminating every last Schijonkio, the only time in our nation's history where we willing wiped out every being of a certain species."

"Yeah," Cadet Morsa leaned over the top of his desk, the green-skinned Orion staring down on the Reol three rows below him, "but the Schijonkio massacred millions of innocent civilians, were well-known for using biological weapons, hitting refugee convoys over military fleets, attempting to raze _Earth_ to the ground and destroying the Kintari homeworld of _Kern Ria_."

"Even with their civilian populations, they were too dangerous," Cadet Singa added, the Vaadwaur shifting in his chair as his amber neck silts flared as he spoke. "If they couldn't fight, they killed themselves. Usually by blowing themselves and as many of our soldiers into tiny bits. They could never be subjugated in any form other then death."

The bitter laughter of their professor finished all further discussion, as the students all turned their eyes or optical organs down to their instructor.

"And after a whole semester I'm very disappointed that you missed the primary clue in this history class," the man waved his eyes over the crowd of youngsters, three hundred minds and they were all missing the point of this entire course. "Yes, the war ended with the complete extinction of the Schijonkio Conglomeration but what was one of the long last effects of their attack on the Ten Founding Empires that influenced the establishment of the Hegemony?"

A hand shot up instantly.

"The Union of Thandar lost several major wormholes and Mass Relays," a Kalish girl bounced in her chair, making her fiery red locks bounce on her sparkling gold shoulders, "cutting their trade lanes into a third of its former and forcing them to adopt a state controlled economy to avoid total ruin."

"No," Gunderson shook his head. "Keep trying."

"The war effort removed a large number of the Than's military," Cadet Burning Desert Under Dwindling Star answered, the Ityan male sharp gold ears glowing in the light of his holo-screens light. "It retarded their expansion for centuries and shifting their cultural ideology from an imperialistic stance to a more industrial driven one."

"Nope," again he shook his head.

"Long standing tensions between the Hiigaran Kith and Tiadan Republic were put on hold as both nations set aside their thousand cycle feud to contribute to the war effort," a red Hirogen male grumbled, tracing his fingers on the hem of his desk, itching for some combat as was within his specie's nominal nature.

"Close," Gunderson was starting to develop a coy smile on his lips, "but you're missing the biggest one."

"With the destruction of _Kern Ria_," a Vostigye boy answered, though the wavering of his arm hinted he was unsure or uncomfortable about his answer, "the bulk of the Kintari population perished and the survivors on their outer colonies were almost disenfranchised. If it weren't for the donation of _Lucur II _from the Solorian Federation, most of their species could have been reduced to living on other empire's colony worlds and habitats with no sense of culture or nation for themselves."

Everyone in the class tried not to match eyes with the three Kintari students spread around the room, all suddenly very interested in every direction that did not face the students who's race had suffered worse in the Schijonkio War.

"We're right on top of it," Gunderson pushed his Cadets farther, "follow that thought!"

"During the war millions of refugees were forced from their homes," a blue Asari continued on her fellow student's thought, "and in the height of the conflict ended up settling on the colonies of other races or new world's altogether. After the war these communities continued to exist, with races from all ten of the major empires living on a singular world."

"Correct!" he shouted, sparking a few giggles from his students. "It was the first time in galactic history that xeno-diverse communes weren't founded or run by a parent empire. It was the principal example of different species contributing to the running of unified government and some of their trials and tribulations were eventually incorporated into this empire's legal and political-"

"_Sir_," everyone turned as an AI flashed into the room, a tall stoic woman in a transparent green body. "_Emergency orders from Stellar Command_."

"Thank you, Patience," he nodded as a private holo-screen flashed opened for his personal viewing.

His eyes scanned the screen, noting the key facts and quickly coming to the conclusion of why this particular message was being issued in his class.

"We've received a distress call from _95SpinwardαǼ_," he closed the holo-window, speaking to his assembled students. "Because of the fact that available ships are understaffed at moment, we are issuing temporary field promotions to all students. Cadets, report to Launch Hangar One immediately... dismissed."

Everyone was on their feet, trying to take the stairs as orderly as possible even if the crowd was smothering. Gunderson wasted not a second, he deactivated his station, transferred his personal information to his internal cybernetic data-storage.

"Patience," Gunderson spoke out loud, the AI quickly flashed in beside him as he departed his classroom and moved off into the corridor. "Contact my personal home droid and have my effects transferred to the _Conscience_ immediately."

"_Already done, Professor_," she responded as she glided over the floor. "_I suppose that I should postpone the student's final testing period as well_."

"Cancel it," he answered without pause.

"_Excuse me_?" the projection cast him a confused gaze.

"Command only issues field promotions if the situation is serious," he tried to keep the concern out of his throat but still his voice trembled as he spoke. "This is their final exam."

* * *

The groan of the door hinges fighting against being opened was enough to warn of Commander Adama's arrival. That did little to stop chief presidential aid Billy Keikeya from briefing Commander Dolla and President Laura Roslin sitting across the table from him.

He came just as Billy was finishing a list of problems being reported by the different civilian ships of the fleet. "And medical supplies are running low again madam President. Six ships have reported engine trouble and want to know when they'll be receiving engineering assistance from _Galactica_."

"That's a good question," Laura asked as she turned to greet the approaching officer. "Hello, commander, have a seat. I'll be with you in a minute. Keep going Billy."

A little perturbed, Adama decided to humor this woman and assumed a seat across from the other two leaders of the fleet.

Billy continued on after a moment's pause. "Uh.. the captain of the _Astral Queen_ wants to you to know he's got nearly 1,500 convicted criminals under heavy guard in his cargo hold. They were being transported to a penal station when the attack happened."

"Oh great!" some how Laura knew this was going to be yet another problem to deal with later on.

For some reason when she saw that ship on the fleet manifest she had almost wondered how such an out of date luxury liner had made it out of the Cylon attacks. She had failed to remember that the _Astral Queen_ had been a luxury liner class thirty years ago. Its class line had slowly seen their numbers diminished as Cloud Line Enterprises and Intersun began to take over the luxury liner markets with their more advance and faster ships_._

Many of her class were regaled to mothballs, minor civilian support roles and makeshift cargo transports. Now the worlds famous _Astral Queen _was nothing more then a prison barge.

"He wants to know what to do with them," Billy prompted though he didn't want to put the words as bluntly as the _Astral Queen's_ Captain Wilkens had.

"What to do with them?" the President didn't quiet understand her aides play on words.

"Well with food and medical supplies being what they are, I think he's considering just..." Billy couldn't bring himself to say it as he trailed off to let Roslin finally come to the conclusion on her own.

The realization was fast and horrifying.

"He wants to just space them!" Dolla was absolutely disgusted.

"NO! We're not going to start that. They're still human beings," Laura was incredulous at the Captain's plan. "Tell the captain I expect daily reports on the well-being of his prisoners. And, if there's any mysterious deaths, the _Astral Queen_ may find herself on her own without the _Galactica's_ protection. Thank you Billy, that is all for now."

Nodding Billy Keikeya quickly retreated from the room as he left the two commanders and the President to battle it out as he knew they would.

"You planning to stage a military coup?"

Laura's question was blunt and direct, catching Adama off guard.

"What?" he asked.

"You plan to declare martial law?" Roslin pushed further. "Take over the government?"

"Of course not," Adama thought the idea in itself was preposterous.

And that is when Laura made the point of her triad known. "Then you do acknowledge my position as president as duly constituted under the Articles of Colonization?"

"Ms. Roslin," Adama's deep gritty voice was not pleased at the word play he had stumbled into. "My primary objective, at the present time, is to repair the _Galactica _and continue to fight."

It was Commander Dolla who interjected this time. "Sir, with all due respect

"Why is it when people say with all due respect they really mean shut the frak up?" Adama quip was harsh but Dolla stood his ground with a deathly glare.

"As I was saying," he continued undeterred, "The situation right now in the Colonies is very grim. Our forces are split but fighting, we've inflicted losses on the enemy but we have taken ten fold back. The civilian population, let alone the worlds they are one, are decimated. If the current rate of losses continue our entire civilization will be gone in a day, two tops. _Galactica's_ mission right now is here, protecting one of the last portions of our people."

"What we do know at this moment is that there are eighty-thousand civilian refugees out there who don't stand a chance without your ship to protect them," Laura added. "And now as a recently received report from _Theia's_ search and rescue _Raptors_ have just delivered more civilian ships are on their way here. If you leave now, tens of thousands... soon to be hundreds of thousands of people will be defenseless."

"We're aware of the tactical situation, and I'm sure that you'll all be safe here on _Ragnar_ after we leave," Commander Adama's assertion caught both Dolla and Roslin off guard.

"After you leave?" Forman questioned. "Where are you going?"

"To find the enemy, we're at war," Adama pushed. "That's my mission. That's what your mission should be too."

"I've fought in more battles in the last day and watched more men then I will ever know die before my eyes," Dolla hissed. "Don't you ever tell me what my mission is!"

"I honestly don't know why I have to keep telling you this," Roslin supported, "but this wasn't a war, it was a massacre."

"The war hasn't begun yet," Adama look was one of determination. "The Cylons need pay for what they did to us."

Both Commander Dolla and President Roslin agreed on this one fact. "That's insane," they echoed.

"You would rather that we sit out here in the middle of no where and wait? Or better yet turn tail and run?" Adama found the idea laughable. _Galactica_ had come all the way out here to rearm to get back into the fight and now they wanted her to stay put.

"Yes, absolutely!" Roslin nodded. "That is the only sane thing to do."

"And we just go blundering off beyond the red line, no support, no reinforcements, waiting to die?" Adama grumbled at the idea.

"I don't know honestly," Roslin admitted as her eyes turned downcast towards the table. "We aren't aware of the situation back on the Colonies. For all we know those ships outside hold the last of our people. We need to regroup, rebuild but most of all we need protection to do so."

"You can run if you'd like," Adama held firm to his intentions, "this ship will stand and fight."

And that's where Laura temper began to crack. "Let me be straight with you here. The human race is about to be wiped out. We have eighty-thousand people left and that's it. Now, if we are even going to survive, as a species, then we need to stick the hell together and we need to start having babies!"

"Commander let me clarify the situation right now," Dolla weighed in. "My _Raptors_ are bring in over a hundred more civilian ships. These people are scared, hungry and injured. Many of them were forced to leave their families behind in order to survive. Our forces are spread thin and barely able to protect themselves. Two _Battlestars_ won't make a difference to the dozens out there fighting the war. But they'll make a difference here by keeping several thousand people alive, either to return home when its safe or to start over again when its all over."

For a long time Adama glared at the man across the table from him and for a long moment the guards at the door tensed expecting the two to jump across the table for each other's throats. Then finally the _Galactica _command spoke.

"How many _Battlestars _do we have in the fight?"

"Ninety at last count an hour ago," Dolla answered as the tension in the room dropped considerably.

"_Galactica_ is going to need a few hours to rearm," and at Adama's comment both Laura and Forman blew out a sigh of relief. "Until we are fully combat ready we will protect you."

"I look forward to fighting beside me," Dolla nodded and then with slight effort, "sir."

* * *

Pulling a few G's was never something he enjoyed, especially when you considered enduring such actions for the better part of a day. But when in combat, personal comfort was not something to be considered.

Kicker slide his fighters to the port as another _Raider_ tried to make a pass at him, only to miss entirely and clip its partner in friendly fire. An hour ago he had jumped almost sixty AU's out from the system's primary to scout for this so called safe harbor all the Colonial civilians seemed to be heading.

Instead the only thing that happened was he ran right into a swarm of Cylon _Raiders_ doing the same thing. His stealth armor only worked to hide him from sensors, any idiot with eyes could still see the ship and the _Raiders_ had come right after him when he jump less then haft a kilometer from them.

But even with a full squadron, the Cylons were still outmatched.

Space superiority was a fine classification for the _Skybolt-_heavy fighter. At 22-meters long, she fielded three gravimetric pulse cannons and four point defense dual lasers, paired with a graviton drive coil allowed the _Skybolt_ almost omnidirectional flight. That meant if a _Skybolt_ fighter wished to make a full 180-degree turn but still maintaining the same direction and thrust, it would not hinder the ship's speed to complete the action.

So when one of the _Raider's_ thought he had Kicker's tail, the enemy was more then surprised when he executed a full turn and opened fire while still flying backwards. Red compressed gravimetric pulses sprayed outward and caught the fighter right in its face. Its wings blew off as the center of the ship was completely destroyed in a violent spray of red death.

In the distraction of catching the enemy so easily Blair got sloppy. It was enough of a weakness for a nearby _Raider_ to get in a few shots. While the cold fusion neo-steel armor of the _Skybolt_ could take any beating, yet an enemy fighter opening up at point blank range could still cause some damage.

He twisted the ship into a barrel roll just in time to avoid the worse of the attack, but not before his port point defense turret was destroyed and the console controlling it blew out from the power overload. Smoke and burning ozone smothered him for a moment before the computer realized the danger he was in and pushed the air recycling systems up a bit to clean out the worse of it.

That gave him just enough time to swing the fighter around and blow the final _Raider_ out of space.

Ten _Raiders_ gone in eight minutes against one _Skybolt_.

But his celebration was short lived. Kicker cursed as he felt air against his left side. Sure enough when he looked down there was a long three inch tear in the material of his suit, tracing a thin jagged line just above his hip bone.

"Great, just great," he grumbled, trying to steam the leaking of water from his uniform. "A couple million miles from home and I spring a leak."

When the console blew he must have niked himself on a piece of metal. He reach one hand down to the first aid kit below his seat and grabbed a can of foam-suture from the first aid kit. Grimacing he pressed the device into the gash in his flight suit and sprayed a thin layer of topical cyanoacrylate adhesives, which instantly reacted into a temporary suture to solve the problem.

While it had solved, his gills were now partially exposed and Jorden didn't like it one bit.

Sure he had been trained back at the Academy on how to deal with a situation like this; Non-Aquatic Survival Training had been a mandatory course for anyone native to high H2O environments who wanted to join the Guard. This was just the first time he had ever been stuck in that situation.

Sure he had a pair of lungs and could breathe air like any land-walker but his body required immersion in water to survive at least partially or once every few hours. If not it was going to get very uncomfortable very quickly.

What he wouldn't give to have someone shooting at him right now.

Shifting a bit, the hard crust of the foam suture grating against his skin and made Jorden's skin suit feel bulkier then he was normally use to.

His skin suit double not just as a way to protect himself from radiation and heat damage but it also held everything under his neck in full oxygenated water so that he was always hydrated.

Blair was a child of the gene-generation after-all, people who had taken to surviving in alien environments not by terraforming the planet but by terraforming themselves. As far back as the 25th century the Blair clan had been genetically modified to live underwater in one of the vast undersea cities that dominated much of the Mediterranean Sea and Pacific Ocean.

He just had to be the first to leave the safe waters of the ocean for adventure among the stars.

When he finally did get back to the _Dynamic,_ he intended to spend the next week in his tank. That promise of cool water and relaxation spurred him on to forget about the discomfort he was enduring as his skin already started to itch from the dryness.

He was a Guard officer of more then seven cycles; he was not going to let some dry dorsal cells get in the way of completing his scouting mission.

* * *

"_This is a Colonial Sunset Radio_," the crackle of static gave way to upbeat yet cheesy music, "_transmitting from Leonis to Caprica and every Colony in between_."

"And again were back," the sultry yet soothing voice overtook the airwaves right after the station promo played. "Carrie Jensen, your radio host talking.

The air was hot, heavy and barely breathable inside the radio booth. Carrie wiped a hand across her head, trying to get the trickle of sweat out of her eyes. This part of the building didn't have an air conditioner, heck it didn't even have windows. But a concrete reinforced basement was better than the paper thin walls upstairs they called the 'new' offices.

"The government is changing those evacuation centers again people," she spoke into the mic like any disc jockey would, grabbing a hair clip off her desk and tying her hair back behind her headphones. "New Ishtar is packing things up so for our listeners heading down that way we're suggesting you pick another one of those tent cities going up around Juno, Themis or Concordia. Well looks like we have another caller, Marta from Astraea what do you have from the front lines."

She made the hand sign towards her sound operator, Gil nodded and quickly switched the waiting call onto the speaker.

"_Carrie_," a stressed but excited voice almost blew out her ear drums as Marta Louise's voice echoed in the room. "_Oh Gods, I didn't think I'd get through_."

"Take it slow, Marta," she coached the woman, her heavy breathing almost overshadowing her actual voice. "You said you were on the train out of Atalanta City when the nuke fell."

"_Oh, it was horrible_," their caller was very loud, almost deafening. "_I live in Astraea, a town about twenty miles away. It's empty now, even ran when Atalanta was hit. There's nothing left, just a bowl in the ground where the sidewalk ends_."

"Deep breath girl, I think maybe you should hightail it out of Astraea," Carrie smiled eve if Marta couldn't possibly see her. "There's a nice little hamlet about seven miles north of you. Carracci, do you know where that is?"

"_Yes_," Marta giggled, a senseless girl's sound. "_I go there for their farmer's market_!"

"Then get going girl," Carrie had no more interest in speaking to Marta any long. She was an airhead who happened to see a history changing event yet unable to appreciate or comprehend it. "Next caller, Jonathan Barker who's visiting from _Picon_. What's the news where you are?"

"_Hello Carrie! You've got to see_-" Jonathan's voice suddenly disappeared into static .

"Well looks like Jonathan won't be joining us tonight," Carrie tried to push the lost caller off as nothing more than a bad connection but she knew better. "We're going to break for a second for a word from our sponsor and then we'll be back."

As the the station ID played again, Carrie pulled her headset off and quickly swiveled around to glare at Gil.

"What the frak happened to our caller?" she yelled.

The booth they had taken was one of the oldest in the CSR building, built just after the Cylon War ended four decades ago and Colonial Sunset Radio had evolved out of whatever was a left over from the civilian emergency wireless networks that survived the conflict. Abandoned a decade ago but never taken apart because of corporate indecisiveness Carrie and Gil had been on the graveyard shift when the attack on _Canceron_ started.

After one particular bombing run left six buildings across the plaza from them rubble, the two had kept true to their calling and now were the only running civilian wireless radio station on the entire continent.

All from inside this cramped little booth. They didn't have soundproof walls, a separate control booth or even descent lighting, only the red glow of the on air sign gave them the only source of illumination.

But since the Cylons had destroyed most of the orbital communication satellites, rendering everything tided to personal comm devices to television transmissions, wireless radio was all that was left to spread the word to the people.

"The line was cut," was all Gil could offer, "service is gone for the better part of east Freyja."

"There goes the half the continent and our callers," Carrie muttered.

She was a loyal radio talk show host, though not among the most popular for the ultra liberal late night political show. But people that behaved rarely make history and her smart ass attitude but college educated head kept her just above sinking in _Canceron's_ large conservative population and gaining her a niche audience among the younger generations.

Her station supervisor had called in twice for them to shutdown but the crockery old man was already hightailing it to high-ground. What was he going to do, fire her? She was the goddess of the airwaves right now and doing a public service on top of that.

"Promo is almost over," Gil advised her. "You better get back to work."

Nodding and returning back to the switch board Carrie found several waiting callers on the line, but as she reached to hit the closest one in the upper right hand corner of the panel and sudden bang resounded through the room.

At first Carrie jumped in her seat thinking one of those bombs had hit the above building but as raised voices reached her ear she knew it was an explosion but the arrival of three soldiers in her booth.

"What the frak!" she rounded on the three men but flat, commanding voices flew back at her.

"Ma'am," the forward most black armor individual curtly answered, "under direct orders of Canceron Provisional Governor Gale Leigh, you are to cease your transmission."

So the government had come to shut her down finally.

_Guess I should have listened to all those angry calls from the station supervisor_, she thought to herself.

But smug satisfaction replaced any fear in her. They had no right, no power, an empty envoy sent to make her backdown.

Oh, how arrogance can blind.

Reaching over she flipped the microphone on high sensitivity, tossed back her headset and turned to regard the trio on live wireless radio.

"I think our boys here have forgotten the liberty of free speech endowed to us by the Articles of Colonization," Carrie mocked the three stoic faced soldiers. Inside she was cursing. Governor Leigh, that made her the third to take over the government after the Cylons nuked the _Canceron's_ capital city of Peridot. She didn't want to think what happened to Leigh's predecessors.

"Miss, we are ordering you to stop!" the command came again and Carrie ignored it.

"Tough!" she spat back. "You people shut down the civilian space lanes, transportation systems and the ground highways! Then wonder why several million people die when a nuke hits a city. We have no escape, no hole to hide in, nothing to run away to. Now you want to shut down the airwaves, depriving them not only of freedom to save themselves but freedom of information to know where to go! The Cylons aren't our number one enemy, ITS YOU!"

She went too far, Carrie hate when she got a hold of the moral high ground and went on a nice lofty binge of arrogance. Still making the same opinionated mistakes that first sparked her love of radio journalism and killed a career in politics well before it started.

"If you do not comply in ten seconds we will be forced to use deadly force."

His voice betrayed him.

Carrie may have been a radio personality, seeing her guests not face to face but usually over a speaker, but her lack of human contact had raised her awareness of the nuisances of the verbal communication.

He may have a commanding, booming voice but he was overcompensating for a lack of real authority. No intention to really killing her, more importantly because it wasn't in his orders.

"No," for a girl that was as long winded and known for her snaky comebacks, it was the simplest yet most cynical response she could provide.

Three rifles raised to stare right into her face and for a second Carrie had to wonder if her skills as a voice analyst were really that good.

"This is you last warning!"

He wasn't going to do it, Carrie kept lying to herself, not a chance.

"No..."

The soldiers opened fire.

Gil ducked, smacking the top of his forehead with his station as he desperately tired to push as much of himself as quickly as possible into the tiny alcove underneath.

Sound louder than anything he had ever heard assaulted his ears but as quickly as the painful orchestra started it was gone.

He looked up, the smell of spent ozone in the air and sparking wires flashing. The entire soundboard was gone, the better part of the wall behind it littered with tiny carters and on the floor one very terrified and gasping Carrie staring wide eyed.

She checked herself for just a second, making sure the pain she was feeling was from hitting the deck so hard and not from any bullet wounds. When she was satisfied she was undamaged, she managed a glance up at her now destroyed equipment.

Their show had just been canceled, violently.

* * *

"Alright everyone," Helo's voice rang out over the group, thirteen strong and all exceeding exhausted. "We can stop here for a while to catch your breath and get some water."

No one argued and a few literally plunged their faces into the cool stream they had stopped by, enjoying the liquid refreshment they had missed for so long. Most were still dressed in their day clothes, after hours of hiking through the woods and covered in mud they had little concern left for how they looked.

"Care to join us?" Helo turned his eyes downward to notice both D'Anna and Cavil standing knee deep in the crisp refreshing creek. "The water feels amazing."

He couldn't help but grin, even more so that he only waited long enough to take his boots off and plunge his throbbing calfs into the cool water...

Never did he notice the glint of a red eye watching them from afar... a mechanical eye...

* * *

The of the hangar bay was complete chaos, shuttles being loaded, transports coasting overhead, cadets getting their assignments, AI's flash in and out everywhere and central to the chaos was a level of control that could have gone missed by anyone lacking a trained eye.

An AI flashed in before a group of cadets, his presence causing all the youngsters to shot to attention.

"_Cruz! HSS Orpheus Descending!" _the male hologram announced, pausing for the cadet's name she had just called to hurry off for his assignment._ "Umut! HSS Voices of Authority! Counter! HSS Summary Judgment! T'roel! HSS Tandem Repeats! Espinoza! HSS Cease & Assist! Conrad! HSS Crisis of Conscience!"_

Across the bay, Patience blinked in before another gathering of juveniles. She tried not to take notice how they all eagerly stiffened in her presence, completely fervent from some action.

She almost pitied them.

_"Santiago! HSS One Hundred Tears!" _her voice echoed outward as she tuned up her volume subroutines._ "Weiss! HSS Value of Secrets! McGrath! Chang! HSS Orpheus Descending! Tia! Guerrero! HSS Tragic Victor! K'poc! HSS Geometry of Shadows! Welcome to the Space Guard and Goddesspeed!"_

They all scattered, going off to their assignments... all except one.

Breaking off he snaked his way between the shuttles, over the fueling clamps and through the lines of cadets boarding their ships, until he found the person he had been looking for.

"Professor," his voice was neutral but tension filled it as he stood next to the instructor, "can I have a word?"

"Yes, Cadet Olin?" the response was light, almost jovial as he deactivated his datapad and crossed his arms. "And that's captain now."

Gunderson's eyes turned on him and for a moment he lost his nerve... but the rage quickly managed to drag back his courage.

"Was I not in the top percentile of your advance linguistic seminar?"

The question caught Gunderson off guard but he quickly recovered.

"You were the top in my course..."

But Olin never gave him a chance to finish as he continued his triad.

"Did I not receive a high ratings for binary code breaking skills, giving Space Guard first place over Cambridge and the University of Tri Varn?" he fixed him with a fuming glare.

"A very astounding achievement," the older man acknowledge such a large achievement for someone so young. "To be so-"

"And did I not," Olin wasn't finished, not by a long shot, "prove that even though I am your _clone,_ I am not a carbon copy of you by pursuing a speciality outside of tactical or military operations even if my entrance exam scores explicitly said I was among the finest tactical minds of my generation?"

"Technically as a clone you are a carbon copy of..." Gunderson suddenly found himself unable to look into the young cadet's eyes, his eyes.

Thousands of cycles ago it required a mother and a father to create a child. Humans had long since advanced beyond that biological constraint. Now a man or a woman... or two men... two women... three... five... ten people could all contribute to the genetic pool a child could come from. Sure it meant that custody battles of the future were all the more mind blogging but as a species, as culture and science evolved, so did the concept of family.

Now it didn't matter how, why or how many people you loved, it matter that you were consenting adults who wanted to raise a child in a loving and healthy environment.

In his case he was a single man who wanted a child. His schedule and travels made finding a love impossible, so he had bypassed that requirement. Donate some genetic material, resequenced the proteins and amino acids into new orders... 36-hours later he had a clone... though different enough to be his own person... his own son.

Something not unheard of in this era, though not the most common yet perfectly legal. As long as the clone wasn't intended for organ harvesting or was a direct genetic copy of his own DNA, society just saw a parent and child.

"And while you were well aware that my foremost desire," he kept his voice just above a whispering yell, "was to serve on the flagship _HSS_ _Geometry of Shadows_, I was assigned to the _Tragic Victor!_ I have top level communication training! Why am I aboard a combat destroyer as secondary sensor operator?"

For an instance he thought he had gone too far, overstepping his boundaries with a superior officer and obviously costing himself his commission even before he had it.

"I don't want to appear as favoring a member of my gene pool," Olaf shrugged.

"I am your clone, not your son," Olin hissed, "that's where the relations end. I am assigned to the _Geometry of Shadows_."

For a long

"Congratulations, Cadet Gunderson," Gunderson nodded at the cadet. "Report to your shuttle and ship out..."

* * *

_Ragnar_ had become the last safe haven in all the Colonies for humanity, if you could consider one hundred seventy thousand people stuffed into two hundred largely unarmed civilian ships a safe place to be.

While the _Galactica_ had originally arrived to simply rearm her ammunition supplies which had been dumped during her pre-decommissioning ceremony preparations, she had instead become a shepherd when the _Battlestar Theia_ had arrived with the civilian ships. Now his well laid plans to head back in the war were cut short in order to make room for rescue operations and protecting what could be the last bit of humanity.

The _Galactica_ and _Theia_ were currently taking on the role of sentries over the only manageable entrance to _Ragnar Anchorage_. Two _Battlestars_, what could be the only left of a fleet of one hundred and twenty battleships.

Before the attack he heard the Quorum was voting to reduce that number in favor of the larger and stronger _Warriorstars_.

Bigger guns on less ships.

If they got out of this alive he would make it a point to petition the government to do otherwise. Numbers was not something they had on their side right now.

For now things were quiet, the battle front was quiet.

The civilians were terrified and that was the only thing keeping them in order currently. With the situation back on the Colonies unknown and mixed reports of won and lost battles trickling in occasionally on the wireless, they didn't know the extent of the situation.

_And better that way_, Adama thought to himself.

President Roslin was supervising the transfer of people from the sub-light ships onto the FTL-capable ones, using the former munitions depot of _Ragnar Anchorage_ as a literal spaceport to do so. It wasn't helping the situation by abandoning sixty very large ships to cram the civilians into a hundred smaller vessels but if it came to running from a massive Cylon fleet it would mean disaster if they had to abandon tens of thousands of people on the sub-lights again.

Adama read a newly arrived report from the President detailing that the final transfer of the three thousand civilians off the _Hyperion_ to _Rising Star, Picon 36, Faru Sadin_ and the _Olympic Carrier_ and that FTL problems were still present on the _Botanical Cruiser_. If the engineers he had shipped over didn't fix the problem in the next two hours, he was going to have to ordered her dumped, leaving them with only her sister ship, the _Boreas,_ to feed the fleet.

How he hated the idea of having to order another perfectly fine ship abandoned into the growing graveyard orbiting the station. The techs were being very broad at what ships were being saved, more than a few clunkers about to fall apart at the seams were being pushed into service for their FTL drives.

Yet a massive ship like the _Botanical Cruiser _which could mean the difference of starving or full stomachs for thousands and that was too valuable to loss.

A knock came at his cabin door and Adama looked up just in time to notice Lieutenant Gaeta entering.

"Sir," the rigid man replied with a salute, "you wished to see me?"

"Yes, Lieutenant. You're being shipped over to the _Theia_ for the time being," he made it blunt but formality and ceremony was something he couldn't afford right now. "The Cylons boarded her while she was docked at _Cereus Station_ and they lost a third of her crew including the XO, navigation and tactical officer. You happen to be qualified in all three roles."

"I understand, sir, and I was expecting as much," he replied. "Kelly and Tigh can do my job and then some."

"Don't make it sound like you won't be missed," Adama said. "You're my most intelligent officer and this is a loan to Commander Dolla as a favor. You're coming back, I'm not giving you up when we're in a war."

"Understood," Gaeta nodded.

"Grab you gear, your _Raptor_ leaves in the hour," and quickly saluting again after Adama's order the man was gone, leaving the Commander to wonder if he had just sent the man on a new mission or to his death.

Not wanting to think over that fact anymore he straighten his suit, fixed his glasses and made his way back to the CIC to check on their situation.

* * *

For a long time Kicker just drifted across the outer solar system, occasionally jumping his ship in hop-scotch like movements to avoid unnecessary travel and to follow certain squads of _Raiders _wandering the solar system. With his stealth armor now working it would only meant he had to keep a safe distance to ensure that the Cylons wouldn't catch him again.

Over the last four hours he had followed one particular group over the better part of the Oort cloud and into the orbit of one of the local gas giants.

And during the entire trip their numbers were growing.

The five fighters had joined up slowly with other squad, until now where more then forty of the moon-shaped fighters were now moving in formation together. They were up to something, slowly gathering their numbers and Kicker wanted to be there when they finally revealed what they were doing.

Ten minutes ago the group had jumped into orbit over the southern pole of a large blue gas giant. The chaos of the clouds and winds were eerily when compared to the sleek and smooth surface of the three _Basestars_ that had jumped in to join them.

Hoping to avoid detection Kicker jumped in along the giant's equator, using the planet's natural magnetic field to hide him while keeping enough distance between him and the enemy.

He was so set on avoiding detection that he as he widened his sensor grid to avoid any hiding enemy fighters, it came as a surprise when his computer began to log Colonial transponders coming from a few thousand kilometers into the storm.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to get what he had found.

"This is Thutmose Five-Six-One," he communicated on a tight band laser beam transmission to the closest Guard ship, the _Affirming Flame_, "call sign Kicker. I'm doing cleanup in outer Colonial Sector 112 by 694 Alpha and I'm getting a large number of civilian signals out here. I think I've found that safe harbor President Roslin was heading for, over."

Ten minutes passed before a reply finally came in text form.

_Encryption Code: Red_

_Public Key: file/kicker-five-six-one/_

_From: Ensign Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss, Chief Communication Officer, FLEETCOM HSS Victory of Triangulum_

_To: Lieutenant Commander Jorden Samson Blair, Kicker Five-Six-One, adjunct to the HSS Dynamic Year/ (SG Service Number: 02832-19932-IF)_

_Subject: COLONIAL SAFE HARBOR_

_/start file/_

_Copy that Kicker Five-Six-One,_

_Admiral Volaska is ordering to confirm visually of the Colonial safe harbor. Make all further communication through text form to avoid detection by enemy units._

_Make contact and provide assistance until Fleet Command can deploy to your sector, over._

_/end file/_

Having his new mission Kicker brought the gravity drive of his fighter back online and began to move his ship towards the prize he had been search for the last four hours for.

* * *

The night air was cold, colder then Helo had ever thought possible.

He tried to wrap his jacket a little tighter around his shoulders, to try and gain some kind of warmth but it quickly escaped him. But what unnerved him the most... was the dark. There were not stars, no lights, even the moon was dark in the sky and everything was lost without in darkness.

Whatever had gone into the air had taken the light from the sky and Helo couldn't bear to image it being like this forever...

Something cracked.

For a second he thought it was just the sound of the forests... until he heard the clank, the groan of servos moving... he knew what was coming.

He was already on his feet when the first Centurion cleared the treeline... and opened fire...

The first screams erupted and though some tried to run... the pop pops echoed through the forest and several cooling bodies hit the ground.

He raised his pistol, aiming the rifle at the nearest of the three interlopers. Taking aim he squeezed off too shots, catching a Centurion in the shoulder and before it could recover, the face. It went down like a ton of metal but as he lined up his shot with the remaining pair something came down on his hand... another pair of hands.

Looking to his left he was more then surprised when he saw those hands were Cavil's.

"What the frak are you doing?" he shouted, trying not to grimace at the crippling grasp the man had on his hands.

"HEY!" he whipped his hand around just quick enough to catch a glimpse of D'Anna's face... before the fist that hit him upside his head sent the world back to black...

* * *

The cockpit was dark; the only lights came from the millions of tiny pin pricks of illumination outside the forward viewport. The hum of the engines was all that kept him awake, everything else was quiet, blank and lifeless.

That is until a voice broke the silence.

"_Sentinel, you have a secure line coming in from Tri Varn, White Channel level_."

"Patch it up," he ordered, a second before a holo-screen activated in front of his face.

The emblem of the Sentinel Core floated across the communication channel before it dissolved to reveal a scowling Salarian, the room on the other end of the transmission just as dark since only his horned head and featureless black eyes were all that pressed out of the shadows.

"_Sentinel Omega 561 Beta report_," the voice was crisp and to the point, just enough authority to make him cringe.

"Sentinel Protector," he bowed his head to his superior. "Target apprehended, placed into secure holding cell at _Magellenic Stellar Command_ until the proper authorities can transport him safely to _Valhalla_."

"_Confirmed_," the man's eyebrows visibly lifted in relief over the capture of such a elusive target. "_No new missions have been posted for your sector. Recommend you return to Tri Varn for further posting in the core galaxies_."

"Sir, I wish to interject," the subordinate interrupted. "I have intercepted a brewing situation in a nearby sector, one that has the entire stellar cluster on high alert. I was hoping to ship out with the 79SpinwardΔΩ to reinforce the Space Guard units present there."

"_We have intercepted the same communication_," the Salarian noted, "_but do not agree that is within your preview_."

"You have already know?" he was gently surprised. From his estimated _Space Guard Galactic Fleet Headquarters_ would just be receiving the information, let alone processing it. Sentinel Core Command obviously had some obvious advantages over an organization that spanned known space.

"_We are the Sentinel Core_," the Protector explained with glaring eyes. "_We must know everything that happens in and beyond the Hegemony to better protect it. We are the law where the law fails... but given your previous success rate at working on an independent investigative level, I will grant your request. Understand that such freedom comes at the cost of your both technological and information support from us. You are on your own in this capacity_."

"Thank you," he humbly bowed again, "Sentinel Protector."

"_Query though,_" the other asked. "_Is this within regards to your visit to the Psyonic Guilds enclave on Ashareeravni_?"

"It maybe, sir," he admitted, "I know the Core and the Guild prefer to work separate from each other but this is a case I don't think we can ignore. We all know the Oracles rarely speak to outsiders... unless its news is of utmost importance."

"_Not everyone agrees with the default posture of the government to take the advising of the psychics_," the Salarian grimly announced, "_but unlike most of the blind leaders in the Senate, I know the power of an Oracle's words personally. You have my word your encounter on Ashareeravni will not be taken against you during your next review. Good hunting, Sentinel Core Command out_."

The screen blinked out, replacing the previous source of illumination in the cockpit with darkness again.

"What's are ETA to the Cyrannus solar system?" he inquired again, preferring the shadowy twilight.

"_At rate of current jump trajectory we are six hours from the Colonial homeworlds_," his companion reported. "_Captain Relbbircsrebu is requesting your presence on the bridge when they make the final jump."_

"Good hunting indeed," he echoed his mentor.

* * *

_Basestar Epsilon 400_ banked to port, narrowing avoiding the plasma beam the burned through the space it had just occupied. It's sister ship wasn't so lucky as the same beam speared it, the concussive force slamming the craft back as it collapsed in on itself.

Even with the death of its sister ship _Basestar Epsilon 400_ waste no time mourning as it spun up its FTL and jumped out of _Scorpia_ orbit. A millisecond later in the far reaches of the Cyrannus solar system she flashed back, her battle scars and hull breaches belching fire and smoke into the surrounding space over a distant gas giant.

Inside the C&C a Six pushed the dirty blonde hair out of her face, trying not to look at the bloodied, bent body of a Three lying next to her on the floor.

"Report!" she called out, listening to a chorus of groans and shouts meeting her request.

Finally an Four answered her question.

"The Hybrid made an emergency jumped," he yelled. "FTL is nearly burnt out and the entire ventral quadrant is open to space."

"Start repairs to get the engines back," she ordered. "Get me _Basestar Phi 199_ on the wireless. I want a status report immediately from them."

"Natalie," an Eight interrupted. "They didn't make the jump..."

It was the easiest way of saying their sister ship was in several thousand pieces behind them.

"Get me Cavil and the others!" she yelled stalking out of the C&C. "I'll be in the conference room."

She cursed, muttered and kicked the nearest wall the moment she was out of sight of her subordinates. A fist may have been preparing to smash itself into one of the many unbreakable beams that lined the hall, when a throat was cleared.

"The ship already has enough damage," Cavil mocked her, "lets not add to it."

"Is there anything that isn't fodder for a joke with you?" Natalie grumbled. "Or is that really how you see our very existence, as some sort of nihilistic punch line?"

"Nihilistic punch line? I like that," Cavil smiled proudly at gaining some credit. "But quite honestly, I'm feeling very serious. Watching a plan you've been putting together for a decade get the rug pulled out from under it can change you. But I want you to know that I place the blame for all of this squarely on myself."

"How.. convenient for you," Natalie forced a fake front of gratitude, knowing the man meant nothing of the sort.

"Come dear," he waved her along, "the others are waiting."

With a final kick to the wall and a nice pain throbbing in her right foot Natalie followed after him, fuming all the more as Cavil took on a smug smile and a light stroll in his step.

"...we've lost _Basestar Iota 729_," the antagonizing pair entered as Five tossed the dossier on the table top as Cavil and Natalie entered the conference room, "_Alpha 916_ and _Kappa 117 _at _Canceron_,_ Gamma 280 _and_ Tau 166_ near _Ragnar_ and contact has still yet to be reestablished with the entire 8th Fleet at _Gemenon_."

"Over a third of the Crusade fleet is destroyed or missing," Eight said standing beside him, the disgust and outrage in her voice almost as loud as the angry bleeding gash aching above her eyebrow, "a hundred _Basestars_ and thousands of operatives."

"We've only managed to eliminated thirty _Battlestars_," Natalie added. "Seems like our plans isn't quit conforming to God's design."

""How could the Colonials mounted such a resistance so quickly?" Three muttered, pacing back and forth like the red visor on the wall behind him. "Our operatives stated the backdoor programs in their computers would cripple their fleet."

"Whatever happened the viral attack failed," Five theorized, "and now we have an inadequate number of _Basestars_ to counter them. We have numerical and technological superiority but the Colonials have the home ground. And these reports of UFO's appearing over the Colonies and decimating our forces before jumping out again are of greatest concern."

"Do we have any idea if their Colonial?" Four inquired.

"Unlikely," Natalie was quick to answer given her recent experience with such creatures. "It may be over forty-years since the last war but some of the weapons we are seeing in use by these UFO's are far more advance then anything the Colonials could develop in a few short decades. Its more than the Cylons could develop in a century."

"So if they're not Colonials and they certainly aren't Cylon," Eight wondered out loud to herself and everyone around the table, "who are they?"

"Could they be alien," Two had to answer it, silence prevailing for just an instance before someone jumped in for the offense.

"That's absurd," Cavil shouted. "God created man, man created Cylon, nothing else feel into his grand design."

"But we do know that the Colonials here do not constitute the majority of their species," Natalie countered with a thorough glare directly at the man.

"Are you insinuating these ships are from their lost Thirteenth colony," the One tried to hide a hilarious smile. "Impossible!"

"We would have found clues when we left after the war," a Five came to the defense of his fellow Cylon. "Either settlements, bases, outposts. We have sent scout ships all out for thousands of light-years and found nothing.

"Other than the Temple of Hope," Eight whispered. "We know that it holds the Eye of Jupiter... which leads to Earth."

"Impossible and irreligious for you to even imply such a thing," One grumbled.

"But we have no idea," Three shot right back. "The Temple of Hope was established by the Thirteenth Tribe on their voyage to their new home. They could use it to travel back to _Kobol_ and then on to the Twelve Colonies. These UFO's in theory could be the returning lost Colony come to protect their brethren!"

"No more talk about this," Cavil protested this entire subject being spoken about. "Its sacrilegious and against everything the teachings of God has taught us."

"We have to send an expedition to the Temple," Natalie proposed, trying to ignore the shout of outrage from Cavil. "We have to know if the Thirteenth have returned there! If they have we are in true danger."

"No," the leader of the dissent fought even harder. "Nothing of this should be allowed."

"Cavil!" Three interceded as the two respective leaders continued to spare. "You are not the sole leader of the Cylon people. But neither is Natalie. We will vote. All those in favor of sending an expedition to the Temple to confirm the presence of the Thirteenth tribe..." she waited for the hands to raise into the air," ...all those against... Five to go, two to stay. An expedition will be sent."

"We have a battle-group in that area," Eight noted, with a nod. "I'll have a _Raider_ sent to them immediately."

"But what about the conflict we have on our hands right now?" Five vocalized.

"If we pull out now, we could salvage most of the fleet," Two pressed. "High Command has already ordered both _Resurrection Ships_ to start pulling back to a safe retreat position if things go sour."

"Unacceptable!" Cavil protested. "We've committed too many ships, too many soldiers!"

"Those aren't soldiers!" Natalie finally lost her cool at the man. "They are my sisters, your brothers dying by the hundreds for a holy crusade that has failed horribly. We've hurt the Colonials, most likely crippled their nation. If we retreat, the chances of a speedy retaliation are small."

"You're toying with our survival by letting the humans go," Cavil countered her argument. "Look at yourselves. Look, there's millions of Twos have that nose. Millions of Sixes possess that mouth. Eights share those breasts, and Ones have this brain. We're mechanized copies. So what if a few die to complete the mission."

"Retreat could be the only chance to salvage the mission," Natalie tried to convince the others but defeat or triumph already were gleaming in their eyes and she knew how it was going to end. "The plan has failed."

"And you don't decide for us, Natalie," Cavil also saw it as his smug smile returned to its usual spot on his face. "It goes to a vote. We decide together and act as a united front."

Five minutes later it was decided.

"Four to stay, three to retreat. The attack continues," Cavil announced to the other six models. "Order the heavy combat fleet to launch."

* * *

Alli had been muddling around in the Cylon networks for the better part of the day and was already longing to be back in her own home computer core soon back on _Victory_.

It was nothing like anything she had previously experienced... and never did she want to experience it again.

This place was just too alien, too cold. Yes it was an organic system, it flowed, moved and held a grace to it, that no mechanical equivalent could muster. But it was chained, slaved to the control of an outside user who had no concern for the semi intelligent-creature they had created.

The Hegemony knew of several alien nations that used organic technology in their ships, from isolationist Vorlons, the roaming and devouring fleets of the Tyranid or biogenic geniuses like Yuuzhan Vong. But the Space Guard expressly forbid organic technology in its ships on the basis that all attempts to create an organic computer system had always and unavoidably led to sentience.

The illegality of slavery was one of the highest laws inside the Hegemony and to subject conscious being to such an existence was horrendous.

_At least AI's were created with the knowledge and freedom of living beings_, Alli bitterly thought to herself, _this system was made to be intelligent and then chained into slavery._

The fact the Cylons, as a rebelled mechanical slaves enslaved by organics, now doing the same to an organic being was absolutely ironic to her.

But she had a job to do... the faster she got out of here the better it would be for her and most especially for the Cylons.

Currently she was sifting through several of the Cylon's black op files.

Most of what she found disgusted her, experimentation on the Colonials to prefect their Hybrids performance, forced breeding programs and the planned extermination to remove pockets of survivors on the Colonies sickened her and she lacked most basic emotion programs to feel such emotions.

But one final in particular caught her attention.

It contained dozens of aliases used by Cylon sleeper agents hidden throughout the Colonies, each waiting for their programming to be activated and subvert their human minds in order to carry out their mission of God.

How sad it was?

Most of these people had no idea they were Cylons. Their brainwashing programing was so prefect that many of them were just as terrified as the humans they were sent to destroy, not knowing that at any moment they could be activated and sent to kill their friends or supposedly family.

She was a computer generated woman first, an officer of honor second, both brought an urge of revulsion over her programing.

An idea stuck Alli...

For the entire incursion she had been sabotaging the Cylon computer network for the benefit of the Colonials and Guard forces. Maybe it was time she did something to benefit those Cylons that were merely pawns in their overseer's war.

Accessing the necessary information Alli found herself greeted by thousands of dormant personalities, each meticulously planned and downloaded into their model's bodies in order to be the prefect spy for any scenario or situation. From suicide bombers to assassins, each program was set for download at a moments notice once the kill switch was active.

In the act the sleeper's personality was consumed and the agent took over, until they completed the task and left the confused plus innocent sleeper personality to deal with the consequences... unless those actions ultimately cost them their lives.

She decided that some personal liberty should be given to these people, for the sleeper personalities to be given the chance to decide what they were allowed to do with their bodies and not to be subject to the terrible terror of an unseen hand guiding their lives.

Launching an Alpha-level intrusion program, a type of action save only for hacking AI's equal to her in processing power, Alli avoided stealth for an all out attack. It easily froze the administration domain of the kill switch network and handed full control over to her on a silver platter.

While the Hybrid of the _Basestar_ she was controlling quickly responded to the attack with her own firewall programs, Alli only needed a tenth of a second to upload more than a dozen search and destroy deletion viruses that rapidly scoured the files. The algorithms locked onto the more than three hundred human-form Cylons hidden throughout the Colonies, setting the entire network aflame for a brilliant moment and then left its shockingly dark.

Onboard _Raptor 312_, Boomer suddenly felt a headache pushing its way up into her temples. She quickly suppressed the painful annoyance as she had just called the ball and was pulling her ship into _Galactica's_ flightpod. She had little time to notice that her nose was bleeding.

Nearby on the _Olympic Carrier,_ Shelly Godfrey suddenly became dizzy as her mentor, Dr. Amorak, rose to help her down to her seat.

In the mountains on _Caprica_, Sameul Anders wiped the blood from his ears before continuing to march onward with his pyramid team through the forest. Miles away, Tory Foster had to take a moment to breath as her stomach suddenly seemed to be in her throat.

On_ Colonial One_, Aaron Doral coughed into the bathroom sink as a wad of congealed blood fell into the water.

Across the span of more than forty light years Gina Inviere wiped the blood dripping from her mouth as she helped Lieutenant Shaw repair a damaged console on the _Pegasus_.

And aboard _Galactica_, both Colonel Tigh and Chief Petty Officer Galen Tyrol had to steady themselves at the wave of lightheadedness over took them.

Back in cyberspace, Alli had destroyed most the evidence of her activities before the Hybrid could muster sufficient resistance and quickly retreated back to the cool and familiar core of the _Victory_, feeling very pleased with her actives.

Three hundred people were now free to make their own decisions, to live their lives. Never again would the Cylons have control of them and destiny was now their own to make.

But when the Cylons did finally activate those files they would find just one simple phrase instead of their precious spies.

Three simple words that would enrage all the models for long after the war was over.

_Leave them be._

* * *

"Oh, please stop fussing," Gianne moaned as she bounced the little bundle in her arms.

He refused to sleep, refused to eat, crying was what he did best... just like his father.

It was Gianne's fourth trip around the deck, almost the full length of the _Cloud Eleven_ on more than one occasion.

He seemed to quite a bit when she walked with him but now he seemed to only like absolute quiet. That was a hard commodity outside of her cabin with the amount of refugees the pleasure liner had taken on.

Lucky for her a newborn meant she didn't half to share her cabin but Gianne couldn't help but feel sorry for the dozens of people that had to double or even triple up to make room for the new arrivals, not counting the numerous tents set up in the domes or the crowds lining the main walks of the mall.

_Cloud Eleven_ could carry almost ten thousand passengers, she was just breaking over one and a half times that. But they had to make sacrifices for their people or sacrifice their people.

Rounding the corner she was more than happy to see the steward leaving her cabin, a old pile of dirty linens in his hands. A freshly turned down bed would probably help this little bundle of bearable joy to go down quietly.

"Hello Graham," Gianne greeted as she pushed her baby upon onto her shoulder.

"Good evening, Ms. Lalonde," the steward smiled. "I didn't know you were still onboard."

"Barely got back onboard from Osokia when the ship pulled out," she recounted, a bit sober remembering the number of passengers that had been left behind when the Cylons had sieged the space station their liner had docked at just 10 minutes before the first strike. "Been trying to get this little boy to sleep since the commotion."

"Well then you'll be glad to know we have docked with_ Ragnar Anchorage_," Graham explained with a cleverly placed smile. "Things should start quieting down soon."

"Thank the Lords of Kobol," she muttered... but in doing so woke the child on in the crook of her arm.

"It seems we have woken somebody," Graham laughed off handed as he approached to see one of their youngest passengers.

"Just like his father," Gianne grimaced a mother's look of desperation and joy at her offspring.

"What his name?" the man inquired as he cooed at the infant.

"Apollo," she smiled, "after his father..."

* * *

Cameras flash, the celebration thick in the air and thundering applause echoed through the banquet hall. Evening gowns, ceremonial armor and dress robes, the formal attire of the guests encouraged some amount of respect and decorum but still she couldn't keep the smile off her face.

"These seismic gravity satellites," she announced, her hands sweeping over a holographic diagram drifting lazily over the ballroom, "when installed at strategic points across the _Earth,_ will ensure all future earthquakes, volcanic upheavals and geological disturbances are forever under our control. No longer will eruptions like Vesuvius that decimated ancient Pompeii, the destruction of the lost continent of Atlantis or the horrific Mt. Fuji explosion that nearly wiped out the great nation of Japan at the turn of the 22nd century, will threaten our world."

It had been a pet-project of hers since her inserting into office, one of the many platforms like balancing the budget, promote a stronger anti-pirate space navy and dealing with the hurricane season on _Venus_ better then her predecessor. But just because it had taken many a personal sacrifice to complete this operation didn't mean she had to enjoy the final hobnobbing that came with it.

"Madam President, Dirk Tisdale, Jupiter Daily Holo-Chronicle," a reporter called out, a hover-cam orbiting over the man's head. "What is your opinion to ecological conservatives who say we shouldn't be playing with the state of our planet but allowed it to evolve naturally?"

"Then I should remind those conservatives," she played off with cycles of experience and skill, a tip of the hand and a delighted smirk, "that if it weren't for us meddling, _Earth_ would have long ago become an uninhabitable wasteland. Using genetic engineering we have re-grown the Amazon rainforest, reversed most of the animal extinctions for over the last five-thousand cycles and begun the systematic refreezing of the North Pole for the first time since the late 21st century. Archeologists for the first time in our history have been able to excavate the formerly lost ruins of New York City, gaining a keen look into human civilization of the 21st century, from under several hundred meters of seawater. While it is a very vague look into the lives of people four-thousand cycles gone, it certainly is a lot clearer without much of the Atlantic Ocean in the way."

Political laughter was the worse laughter, a clattering that went through the nose and out the mouth. How she hated it.

"_Madam President_," the interruption was almost welcomed and hated at the same time.

"Excuse me everyone," she disengaged herself from the crowd and pressing her finger to the ear-pod cleverly hidden behind her glittering earrings. "What's wrong Layla."

"_Incoming diplomatic message for you from Alpha Centuria, logging in as urgent_," the other women's voice echoed in her ear.

"I'm heading for my office," she ordered, high heels clicking on the fine granite floor, "link it into my personal channel."

Out into the night air she walked, pouring waterfalls and the occasional whine of a passing shuttle was all that disturbed the night in the sleeping capital; all expect the words of one restless soul.

"I don't care what your friends are doing for vacation," now she wasn't the President of Solorian Federation of Sovereign Territories, one of the largest member empires of the Hegemony with it over 1.9-trillion citizens but a mother groaning into her ear-pod at an indignant teenage daughter, "you are not spending it at _Alpha Centuria_."

A voice on the other end, indiscernible to anyone but herself, muttered over the internal speaker.

"So what if all eight moons of _New Paris_ are aligned," she shouted into the ear piece, "or the ostriches are migrating, both your fathers planned this dinner weeks ago and you knew about it. Just because your 1.2 light-cycles away does not mean you can't drop by for one meal with your dads and mom."

The dark oak door of her office parted and tossing her high-heels under her desk and pressing onward onto the balcony for some cool night air to wash away her frustration.

A weak groan over the other end sounded her victory.

"Good," for the first time in a long while she smiled for a real reason, "I'll see you on _Mars_ tomorrow. And don't track any red sand into the house, dear."

Pulling the device from her ear and tossing it onto the nearby patio table, crisp summer air pushed through her hair as she leaned over the railing, staring down into the city below and the ocean on the horizon.

Central City was the jewel of the Solorian Federation, it capital for the last four thousand cycles, the ultimate testament to the power and unity of their nation. Fifty million people worked, lived and ate in the massive floating metropolis, the fourth largest on _Earth_, forever drifting in the endless Pacific Ocean.

Constructed atop the sunken ruins of the Hawaiian island of Hawai'i abandoned around the early 2020s, it had evolved from a collection of floating platforms meant to mine nickel-iron from the undersea volcanoes around the end of the 21st century but soon a thriving economy allowed her to become the bustling urban sprawl she was today. As commercial space travel became an everyday occurrence on the planet, Central City's location right above the equator made her the largest spaceport in the solar system in under a decade. When the Federation was founded with the unification of the United Nations of Earth and the Greater European Bloc in 2099, following the joint establishment of _Earth__'__s_ first outer solar system colony on _Alpha Centuria II_, christened _New Paris, _in 2077 and the extensive military campaign to bring the rebellious Helghan colony on _Alpha Centuria I_ under control in 2100s, the importance of the city as _Earth's_ heart for economic and primary source of space travel was not overlooked and the metropolis was soon selected as the capital for the newly christened nation.

Spreading out for nearly the entire length of the former island chain the city housed many of the Federations and Hegemony departments and headquarters, from the Torchwood Institute to Public Security Section 9. Beyond her governing role to the fifteen thousand light cycles the Federation covered, Central also played host to the key spaceport in the entire local cluster.

In the distance a yellow cargo ship lifted off from one of the launch piers, speeding up into the sky and quickly becoming just another star in the heavens.

Nearly everything this side of the galactic core had to pass through _Sol_ system at one point or another and a good percentage of those ships capable of intra-atmosphere travel would be landing at this fine city's spaceports.

The chirping of her ear-pod drew her back, another interruption had finally arrived and she was more than happy to take it.

"Madam President," Layla greeted her commander in chief as she projected in the woman's office, "incoming communication from Space Guard _Galactic Fleet Headquarters_. Immediate priority. It is encrypted on a top level channel for your eyes only."

"Thank you, Layla," Rhyassa nodded as she closed the holo-screens over her desk. "Initiate standard privacy precautions and deploy a sound sterilizer field around my office."

"Confirmed," an audible click flowed as Layla locked the room down from every form of intrusion, "Your office is now clear. I will not reinitialize until specified."

With the AI now in standby and no interruptions possible from the outside world she activated her comm. systems.

"Display message," she ordered.

A brief flicker of blue static cleared as Rhyassa found herself staring into the very stern eyes of a Grand Fleet Admiral Hauser, a man she knew but had few dealings with.

"Madam President," he proclaimed his designation code like a medal of honor, "I hope this message finds you well on the motherworld. I am contacting you to make you aware of the situation developing in the Cyrannus solar system. As of yet our information is limited but from what we have gathered is that a previously unknown human settlement in the Large Magellanic Cloud was discovered under heavy siege by a previously unknown alien civilization."

"Space Guard fleet 95SpineαǼ has entered into defensive maneuvers to lift the siege," Hauser declared in high esteem, "but the nature of this settlement is of serious concern to our officials. We are dispatching Fleet Admiral Mutahala to personally discuss the situation with you instead over an open subspace channel. This communication is being relayed to Hegemony Empress and members of the Advisory Council. Until next time, may the grace of Holy Gaia guide you to good fortune."

The transmission ended and as the screen closed the woman that had survived four terms, a major intergalactic civil war, three heart operations and two teenage daughters suddenly found feeling a terrible tightness rising in her chest.

"Layla!" she yelled, her voice cracking in the act.

"Yes, madam President," the hologram appeared with a flash, concern painted over her face as her emotional matrix was on high alert.

"Get me a link to _Tri-Varn_ and Empress Oreska now," Rhyassa ordered.

"Priority link is activating," the AI declared. "Rerouting through the _Hubble Tachyon Array_ and the _Alpha Centuria Jump Node_. You are online."

Another comm. screen activated and the vision a young woman poised against a distant city behind a setting sun flashed over the pixeled hologram. Empress Tal'mari Oreska flashed her a smile the moment the connection was confirmed, her fiery red hair falling over an almost angelic face. If it weren't for the black featureless eyes the Kintari woman could have passed as human.

Right now those eyes were very hard in apprehension.

"President Biedon," Tal'mari acknowledged from her office 24-thousand light cycles away. "I understand you have received the same message I have."

"Yes, Empress," Rhyassa nodded.

"I can't say that I am not concerned... deeply," the Empress' usual calm demeanor barely held as she ran her hand through her hair."I've been around for a few hundred cycles but the last place I'd expect such a calamity was the Large Magellanic Cloud. What's the opinion from Earth?"

"Non-existent," "Until that message there was no knowledge of this settlement.

"I am not accusing you of anything Rhyassa, I know humanity has no need and no desire to bypass the Colonization Project. Yet there are those in the Federal Senate and the Space Guard who are going to raise concerns. Few senators would publically standup against humanity... but those that would could cause a lot of problems in the long run."

"I appreciate the warning," the human agreed. "I understand I have a meeting from a Fleet Admiral Mutahala to look forward too."

"Do be nice," Tal'mari smirked at her. "He is a highly decorate officer and one of my favorite advisors. I'd hate to have him sent back in a bucket..."

* * *

"Report from _Theia_," Dualla called out as she approached the Command and Control station. "She has had no new ships, Colonial or otherwise on her dradis for the last three hours and their last _Raptor_ just jumped in reporting nothing."

They all tried not to think about the fact that nothing could either mean no enemy... or no survivors. No one had bothered to report which one because it was just dissolving into a wreckage and more death.

Adama knew that _Theia_ had more then four times the _Raptors_ then _Galactica_ did but being as they were flying longer he had ordered his ships to move out a bit farther to give the others a break.

"What _Raptors_ do we still have in the air?" he asked.

"_Raptors 612, 478, 275_ are back... _312_ is the last still out," she finished after a second, "Boomer's ship."

The lieutenant had been flying for almost a day and a haft straight now and Adama made a quick mental note after this flight she was grounded, given some rack time and a medal on top of that for her fine work.

As if on cue the dradis lit up as sixteen new contacts jumped in.

"_This is Raptor 312_," Boomer voice sounded almost ecstatic. "_I found a few stragglers around Picon, fifteen FTL civilian ships. I'll patch you through to their leader on the Scylla_."

"Dee, ask the _Scylla_," Adama instructed his communications officer, "how she survived the Cylon attack on _Picon_."

_Picon_ after all was the first Colony to reportedly been struck by the Cylons, in a successful bid to destroy _Picon_ _Fleet Headquarters_ and to cripple the 1st Battlegroup. With them out the picture in a matter of seconds the planet below was nothing more then collateral to nuclear bombing. For anything to make it out of orbit undamaged, let alone off the ground, was a miracle of the Gods.

Dualla relayed the message and soon a response came in over the wireless speakers.

"_Galactica this is Peter Laird of the Scylla_," a shaken and cautious voice responded. "_The Battlestar Hades shadowed us until she had to jump to Aries. Admiral Grey was leading the fleet to Virgon to assist Nagalla. Last we heard the Cylons ambushed his Battlestars, heavy Cylon looses but they went silent almost six hours ago. We were just about to head for the Red Line when your Raptor found us. Abandoned our six sub-light ships, crammed everyone onboard and jumped here_."

"Ask what kind of manifest the Scylla and her ships are carrying," the commander instructed Dee again.

"_The Scylla's just a cargo hauler_," Laird explained after Dualla communication the response. "_We dumped most of freight to make room for more people but our ships are transport liners. Three Intersun passenger ships, four bulk cargo haulers, a construction barge, six mass transports and a pleasure liner, the Olympus. Around twenty thousand people. What are you planning to strip us for parts_?"

The idea was tempting but no. It was not going to come to that if Adama had anything to say about it. He ordered the ships to join the civilian fleet inside the gas giant.

"_One thing Galactica_," Laird interrupted just as Adama was making ready for a retreat to his quarters. "_The four bulk cargo haulers I told you about. The were part of a strip mining fleet pulling anything of worth off the old outpost on Borallus, including ammunition from the station's defense batteries. I would think you'd want to get your hands on some of the materials considering those guns were salvaged from decommissioned Colombia-class Battlestars like yourself."_

"Have the _Scylla_ and her ships move to _Ragnar Anchorage _but have the cargo ships anchor off of us to load those supplies. Tell the President that when were done stowing our ammunition we'll be sending her four empty FTL cargo ships. I'm sure she'll like to hear that," Adama ordered.

While _Galactica_ had topped off her supplies at _Ragnar_ a surplus would be a welcomed cushion. With the tactical situation as it was replenishing their ordinance was probably going to be very hard in a few weeks and the Commander would prefer his ship and the Theia were ready for the worse. And with that he would also feel comfort that four civilian ships with explosive rounds were not being made floating mines to send into a fleet of little less then two hundred thousand people.

Outside in the space above the gas giant Boomer let her _Raptor_ drift to port as she watched the fifteen ships she had just rescued move on towards the caravan of civilians. Almost 38 hours of doing this and she wasn't even starting to feel tired. Probably just the ad reline from making so many jumps that was keeping her awake.

For a long time she just stared at the passing ships, wondering how many people were onboard each one. She had pulled in over a hundred ships since she started yesterday, each one another life saved from almost certain death at the hands of the Cylons.

Those chrome headed bastards had already killed so many, every soul they managed to haul out of the fire was another score for the human race...

Her thoughts were distracted as a communication came in over her wireless.

"Boomer here," she acknowledged.

"_Boomer_," Dee worried voice came in over her wireless. "_Where have you been? We've been trying to contact you for the last fifteen minutes._"

"_Galactica_ I don't know what you're talking about," Sharon protested,"I've just been watching the civilian ships pass by..." It was only then did she realize that the civilians that had just been in front of her were several hundred kilometers away entering the eye of _Ragnar's_ storm.

What had happen? Had she blacked out, lost track of time?

She had spent too much time behind the controls of her ship and needed some rest.

"Must be something with my comm systems," she theorized to get _Galactica _off her back, "setting course for you now."

As the _Raptor_ turned and burned off towards the _Battlestar_, Boomer had no idea that she had left a communication drone drifting in the space behind her. While it looked like nothing more then a piece of space debris to the Colonials, no one had any idea that it was currently programmed to transmit their position on a radio frequency used exclusively by the Cylons.

Not even Boomer remembered that she was the one that had programmed the drone, she had no idea she was the one that launched it...

* * *

The fighter buffered and shock as another gale of wind caused Kicker to fight for control of his ship.

He had taken a low course through the clouds of the gas giant's upper stratosphere to get close enough to this was truly the Colonial safe harbor without being seen himself. Violence had already been reported from terrified Colonial ships mistaking the Guard forces for Cylons, he didn't want to tempt fate and piss off the people he was suppose to be saving.

Skirting around a pocket of thick hydrogen, he started to pull the nose of the ship up again to get a better view of the horizon. While his sensors could cut through the electro-magnetic interference it did bring his range of vision down to a fourth of what it usually was.

Eyes weren't as easily fooled as sensors could be.

Finally after more then four-kilometers wading through this murk, Kicker started to bring the bow of the ship up and back into low orbit.

The sight that beholded him was something that made him grin.

"This is Kicker Five-Six-One," he communicated back to Fleet Command, "visually confirming two _Battlestars_ and a small fleet of four civilian ships orbiting around the equator of gas giant Six-Mark-One-Apple. Seems like their covering an eye to a major storm. Scanners can also confirm an additional two hundred unverified ships inside the eye and a large stationary structure, possibly a space station, as well."

Ten minutes later his reply text arrived.

_Ninety Fifth Spineward Alpha Aeon Fleet ALPHA PRIORITY TRANSMISSION 96847L-86_

_Encryption Code: Red_

_Public Key: file/kicker-five-six-one/_

_From: Ensign Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss, Chief Communication Officer, FLEETCOM HSS Victory of Triangulum_

_To: Lieutenant Commander Jorden Samson Blair, Kicker Five-Six-One, adjunct to the HSS Dynamic Year/ (SG Service Number: 02832-19932-IF)_

_Subject: COLONIAL SAFE HARBOR_

_/start file/_

_Copy Kicker,_

_Fleet Command is deploying Blue, Magenta and Thutmose wings to your position, eta twenty minutes._

_The Lancer and the Ajax will also be deploying, eta one hour._

_Admiral has cleared you to make contact with Colonial units._

_/end file/_

No sooner then he had finished reading the first text file and he began to initialize his boost to close the eight thousand kilometers between himself and the Colonials did Kicker's board lit up again from another text.

_Ninety Fifth Spineward Alpha Aeon Fleet EMERGENCY PRIORITY TRANSMISSION 16857L-06_

_Encryption Code: Black_

_Public Key: file/kicker-five-six-one/_

_From: Ensign Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss, Chief Communication Officer, FLEETCOM HSS Victory of Triangulum_

_To: Lieutenant Commander Jorden Samson Blair, Kicker Five-Six-One, adjunct to the HSS Dynamic Year/ (SG Service Number: 02832-19932-IF)_

_Subject: COLONIAL SAFE HARBOR_

_/start file/_

_WARNING_

_Fishcake Seven-Six-One has confirmed Cylon presence detected around the southern pole of the gas giant Six-Mark-One-Apple._

_Probability of attack on Colonials 98.1 percent likely or immediate._

_Blue and Thutmose are jumping to your position now, Magenta is launching and the Brahma will be arriving within a haft an hour._

_That's all that can spared for now._

_Your priority until fleet can deploy ships is to make contact and protect the Colonial Battlestars at all cost._

_/end file/_

Kicker had finished the text file when the space in front of him suddenly burst into a massive star and dissolved to reveal his worse fear.

"Ah crap!"

* * *

"Dradis contact!" Captain Aaron Kelly called out as the klaxons began to scream in the CIC, "Three Cylon _Basestars_ have jumped in and are launching _Raiders_!"

"Weapons grid to full power!" Colonel Tigh ordered, "Stand by enemy suppression barrage."

"Set condition one through out the ship," Adama announced. "Have the cargo ships break tether and veer away starboard."

Outside _Galactica_ and _Theia_ tilted to their side as they assumed their full combat stance. Presenting their dorsal guns, the two massive ships provided a psychical shield for the four civilian crafts racing into the mouth of the storm

"Incoming one hundred sixty Cylon fighters," Kelly called out, "closing at one two zero mark four zero."

"Enemy suppression fire," Adama ordered. "All batteries execute."

"All batteries," the Colonel announced over the ships intercom, "commence firing."

The two _Battlestars_ opened up with all their guns and the space above the ships became crowded with hundreds of kinetic energy slugs as they threw everything they had into the air.

Cylon _Raiders_ tried to escape the incoming bullets but they did so in a sorry fashion. Dozens exploded before they finally managed to pull themselves out of the flak and came about towards the _Battlestars_.

"Perimeter established!" Aaron yelled.

Commander Adama didn't miss a beat, "Launch _Vipers_!"

"_Viper's_ clear to launch." Dualla communicated to the fighters on the flightpod.

Along the port side of the warship more then forty _Vipers_ vaulted out into space as more swarmed from either side of the _Theia_.

"_Broken formation, Razzle Dazzle_!" Apollo yelled out over his wireless as the squadrons formed up behind him. "_Don't let em' use their targeting computers, and for frak sakes, stay out of Galactica's firing solution_!"

His wingman Lieutenant Thrace nodded from inside her cockpit as she angled herself towards the closest enemy fighter.

"_Viper's_ in position," Captain Kelly announced as Adama came to the same conclusion on his dradis screens.

"Signal _Vipers_ engage fighters only," he elaborated, "leave _Basestars_ to us. Execute!"

* * *

"Six new contacts have jumped onto the board!" Lieutenant David called out as the SIT added the six new icons into _Caprica's_ orbit. "They are not _Basestars_."

"_Design and weapons configuration is concurrent with a Cylon class we have not encountered before_," Harrison explained as a detail overlay and cross section of the new arrivals appeared before him.

Where as the Basestar resembled a two starfish-like designs centered over a single pylon this new creation was more like a squid. Four chrome arms stretched back from a central head, the bulbous bow completely smooth short of a massive crater that allowed a jutting cannon to press out like an ugly protrusion.

The High Guard had just encountered a Cylon _Attackstar_.

"_Heavy hitters_," Harrison surmised. "_Sensors can discern numerous missile turrets, refined heavy combat armor and a more streamlined design to limited its impact profile. I can also detect some sort of cannon relay dominating its bow_-"

The explanation cut itself short as the SIT flashed a sudden warning before a second later the entire room abruptly shook and the overhead lights flickered.

"What the hell was that!" Captain Lawbaaut asked in a confused ton. "Damage report!"

"Armor along the port bow is down to ninety percent efficiency," Adela rattled off "point defense cannon eleven and forty two are down, no injuries reported."

"_Apparently the cannon relay is a primitive phototonic cannon_," Harrison examined the device closely on a nearby holo-screen. "_Incredibly inadequate against our armor and with some serious cool downtime. At the current rate of recharge we have two minutes before another barrage. Most likely its the first series off the assembly line for them. Since we're causing so much damage to their fleet they are pulling out all the stops_."

"I should feel flattered," the Captain grimly accepted such an honor. "Can you hack their internal systems?"

"_Negative_," the AI dejected. "_Their slaved to their command operators, no outside connections or communications_."

"Silent running. This is going to be interesting," Lawbaaut muttered under his breath. "Launch a communication drone to _Victory_, appraise them of our engagement. Keep fighters on the blockader line so no more _Raiders_ get through, route drones for wide range multi-vector attack patterns and Ms. David, get those ships out of my sights."

"Yes, sir. Plasma cannon has a lock on Cylon warship Alpha," Adela reported.

"Fire at will," and with that the forward plasma cannon light up.

The inbound _Attackstars_ quickly dodged the incoming beam, only slightly grazing one of the forward most ships that had the least warning of the incoming shot. Fire and debris exploded out into space but it was only a glancing blow as the ship righted itself and quickly fired a spread of missiles.

_Dynamic_ took the hits, point defense lasers spying out their targets and picking them off. But with six _Attackstars_ firing a continuous stream of ordinance some got through.

"Direct hit," David reported as she held herself tight as the floor shook violently, "can confirm serious damage but she is still flying."

"No wonder the Cylons kept them in for reserve," Commander Fabian announced as the _Attackstars_ spread themselves out to avoid another barrage, "everything they have is devoted to maneuvering and firing but nothing left over for long term endurance. Deep scans confirm her fuel reserves are a fourth of a standard _Basestar_, almost all devoted to evasive action."

"So a ship like that is meant to carry heavy firepower and move quickly," Chief Timov thought out loud, "but will probably need a refueling tanker to haul her back afterwards."

"Maybe we could use that lack of long-term endurance to our advantage," Lawbaaut said. "Load a type-three missile salvo and target the plasma cannon. Aim for engines and fueling systems."

"Salvo loaded, plasma cannon primed," Adela reported. "Firing."

The missile salvo went first, a dozen small warheads broke forward and raced at the closest _Attackstar_, to which the ship quickly dodged with a speedy roll to starboard. But the moment she had moved _Dynamic's_ plasma cannon fired, the beam intercepting the escaping vessel. Even with her heavy armor, the light hit home and the warship crumpled under the impact.

"_One Cylon ship down_," Harrison confirmed as the holographic icon faded from the SIT. "_Remaining five units are opening fire_."

"Evasive pattern Alpha," Lawbaaut ordered.

Ensign Marlop quickly responded by pressing the _Dynamic_ into a step rise, giving them the critical distance to avoid the incoming energy discharges. Three disappeared off into empty space, two connected with the Space Guard ship's ventral hull.

"Buggers are getting smarter," Timov cursed, as he routed several more damage crews to deal with the mounting damage. "Their aiming right for our weapon turrets. Point defense cannon nineteen and eight are fried and surrounding armor has dropped to eighty present."

"Return fire," Lawbaaut ordered, "I liked it more when our targets didn't put up this much of a fight."

"_Sir_," Harrison interrupted, "_I don't think this is a fight, I think it is a diversion_."

"Elaborate," he encouraged the AI.

"_Cylon units don't seem to be concentrate fire exclusively to destroy us_," the AI detailed the overall flight paths of the enemy warships against the _Dynamics._ "_I think they are trying to drive us off_."

"Drive us off from what?" Gwnat asked the obvious.

"I think this is our clue," the words of Adela drew their collective attention to the SIT where a swarm of new contacts flashed onto the edge of their sensors. But it wasn't the fact that a collection of _Basestars_ now faded into life as they pressed towards _Caprica_... it was what the sensors had identified they were towing.

"Asteroids."

Ensign Gwant's words were met with stark silence.

"Tow them in," Mia surmised, "let gravity do the rest. Don't even need a mass driver to accelerate them."

"_Kinetic impacters, like asteroid drops or de-orbiting space stations_, _are strictly forbidden under Article 893 of the Articles of Sentience due to it destructive properties and damaging after-effects since 110 A.F._," Harrison noted. "_There use is considering a war crime."_

"Remind me to lodge a protest," Gwant's sarcasm was well placed.

"_I have nine Basestars dragging one asteroid each_," the AI continued unhindered, "_average diameter between ten and twelve kilometers. At the current rate of accelerate coupled with Caprica's gravity well, impacts will be in excess of one to one hundred fifty terratons... enough to sterilize the entire planet_.._._"

"One asteroid that size was enough to cause the extinction of the dinosaurs on _Earth_ sixty five million cycles ago," Commander Fabian grimly reported. "Nine will be able to ensure nothing ever lives on _Caprica's_ surface ever again..."


	8. Chapter Eight: Scent of Souls

**Chapter Eight**: Scent of Souls

**Rating**: PG-13

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Feedback**: Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywriter by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

* * *

"_I will not destroy beauty, I will not destroy freedom, I will protect diversity in all its infinite combinations... I will not wage war against those who have no defense... I will be the shield of those who have no shield... I know extinction is inevitable... I however will and can do everything I can to prolong it... I am Hegemony_"

**Code of Honor, **_**Space Guard Graduating Mantra,**_** Class of 3,002 A.F.**

* * *

**Time**: _Third Month of Ichor, Twenty First Day, 3021 A.F. Hegemony Calendar / March 3rd, 6230 C.E. Terran Calendar Plus Seventeenth Hours from Initial Cylon-Hegemony Contact._

**Location**: _Ragnar Anchorage, Ragnar Gas Giant, Cyrannus Solar System_

* * *

The air was cold and musty, leaving a foul taste in Laura's mouth as she walked the barely lit corridor. Beside her Captain Russo and Aaron Doral both had to briskly keep up, both muttering about any number of problems she was going to have to deal with.

"Medical supply shortage is getting worse," Doral handed over another supply manifest and Roslin had to grimace as the number was staggering lower then it was an hour ago. "Even with the medical ship _Nomad_ _Mother_ joining us an hour ago and the medics _Galactica_ and _Theia_ shipped over best estimates is that we'll exhaust the entire fleet's medical supplies in two days."

"Begin rationing everything," she ordered, handing the report that weighed more like a book back to the man, "only life threaten and crippling injuries will get medical aid until further notice. Next item on the list."

"Recon teams from _Galactica_ have finished searching the station," Russo quickly supplied to her request, "they say it is free from any other Cylon agents. We can start moving the civilians out of the docking pylon and into the habitation rings."

"Finally," she muttered under her breath. "This station can house ten thousand but we've going to have to take on more. I want to start converting some of the lower levels of the station into living quarters. The barracks on level-25 should be a good place to start."

"I'll order the captains to start forming up teams to assign quarters and clean up crews," Russo added. "Getting those civilians we have crammed into the cargo hold on _Colonial_ _One_ is going to be a Gods damn pleasure."

"In the meantime I hear the _Cloud_ _Nine_ is having problems with its bio-dome..." Rolsin's next item of business held in the air as their approach was intercepted by one of the Colonial soldiers the President had met early.

"Madam President," a woman in black combat armor saluted her, "Sergeant Erin Mathias, was assigned by _Galactica_ to lead the _Ragnar_ search teams. This is Lieutenant Margaret Edmondson, Racetrack, a _Raptor_ pilot from Galactica."

"Yes, of course," Roslin had to admit she had only met the woman in passing but her gun hoe attitude did seem a bit off putting.

"Well we were concentrating around the lower decks," Mathias explained, "making sure none of the Cylon's got into the reactor core and tried sabotage the station when we noticed several areas of dead space on our schematics. Cargo bays, hallways, a large number of room that were suppose to be on the maps and weren't. When we investigated we found this."

She handed over a few poorly developed photos and schematics and for all her knowledge as a teacher, Laura could make little sense of what she was looking at.

Russo on the other hand did as he glanced over her shoulder.

"This is a frakking joke!" the Captain cursed. "You mean they were installing a jump drive on the station!"

The implication was nothing short of leaving Roslin and Doral's jaws hanging open.

FTL was a terribly expensive technology. Until only a decade ago it was exclusive to military ships and the highest level of governments. Commercial use had only come about after the Quorum made some amazing large concessions and aid packages to jump start civilian interest in the drive system.

Still the current cost of tylium fuel meant only the top shipping and travel corporations in the Colonies could afford to field ships like the _Cloud_ _Thirteen_ and _Botanical_ _Cruiser_, meaning that behemoths the size of _Galactica_ with the ability to jump were a rarity. A _Warriorstar_-class, over twice the length of _Galactica_, was the largest jump capable ship in the Colonies and those weren't even off the assembly lines yet...if ever after the shipyards at _Gemenon_ had been hit.

The ability for _Ragnar_ _Anchorage_ to jump, well that was just unimaginable. From top to bottom she was over eight times the length of _Galactica_... not counting half that across.

Technology, construction...just the fuel costs to keep something of that magnitude flying was insane.

"As much as we could tell... yes," Mathius confirmed. "But it wasn't while we were still using the station during the last war… inspection from five years ago don't even show it. It was recent... and its not Colonial."

"Commander Adama said they found a Cylon _Raider _docked onboard," Doral wondered. "They couldn't have possibly installed a drive capable of jumping a space station. Could they?"

"I've never seen a Cylon jump drive," Racetrack shrugged, "so I can't be certain but it definitely was more advance then anything we've ever encountered. It's a third of the size of _Galactica's_ but from the power readouts it over ten times stronger and more accurate."

"Adama thought the Cylon's were planning on stealing the munitions at the depot or at least keep us from getting to them," Roslin surmised. "What if they weren't stealing the supplies here...what if they were stealing the depot?"

"In theory this FTL is so powerful..." the wonder and terror in Racetrack's eyes wasn't lost on Roslin, "we could jump inside the storm."

"Pilot Edmondson," the President turned towards the woman who's eyes suddenly flashed with fear as she was now addressing the leader of the Twelve Colonies, "do you think you could adjust that FTL for our uses."

"Yeah," the _Raptor_ pilot replied sheepishly, "the system isn't even encrypted. Just needs some fuel and plotting on the navigation broad but I think we can get her moving."

"We have _Hitei Kan, Daru Mozu_ and _Maldune_ all brimming with tylium," Russo answered. "I'm sure we land a few of the Fleet's gas guzzlers and repurpose their fuel to _Ragnar_ we can shore up those numbers."

"I mean the system is so prefect we could link it into the other ships in the fleet," Racetrack continued, "maybe even plot a collective jump for everyone without even leaving the maelstrom."

The crackle of Mathius' radio caught the group's attention, the officer pressing a hand to the communication device in her ear.

"Better make it quick," she replied after a beat, "Communication from Commander Adama and Dolla. Cylon's just jumped in and have launched an all out siege."

* * *

She traced her fingers across the ground, the layer of dust and dirt grinding under weathered, calloused skin. The surge of feelings, emotions, turmoil rolled in her mind, bile rising to accompany it as training kicked in to suppress her gag reflex.

"What can you tell us, Oracle?" Private Jant Rruna grumbled behind her, the Devoran soldier gripping her plasma rifle a little too closely at her.

"I am far, far below an Oracle's power young miss," Seeker Latesha Morrestown laughed as she rose to stare off into the distance, absently wiping her dirty fingers on her tunic, a nasty habit that she have never truly broken from childhood. "I see things unseen, not a future that has not happened."

"Then what do you see?" the fellow woman growled, uninterested in the aloft musings of the psychic.

Latesha was only here on her own freewill, actually staying as a passenger on the _Dynamic_ before it completed its monthly patrol from _New Rennasia_ to the botanical research outpost on _Dolan VI_. When the call had come out for rescue volunteers to make combat drops to the nuked cities of the Twelve Colonies she had wasted no time offering the services of a fully trained Seeker on behave of the Psyonic Guilds.

Few could deny the old woman her request, a Seeker could do the job a full scale search team without even moving an inch, using their natural remote viewing talents with a fair bit of telepathy and empathic skills to located survivors. Next to the Primes who could move starships with their minds, Seekers were the most sought after contracts in the Psyonic Guild

"Pain, suffering, terror, thousands crying out and then silence," Latesha whispered loud enough for the Private and her comrades behind her to hear clearly. "The energy left in the air is intense."

"Oh, so superstitious words and we're suppose to believe you?" Listip, a fellow Devoran soldier stated incredulously.

Devoran were not particular fond of psychics and Latesha had known there would have been animosity when she had been assigned to this rescue squad. A telepathic elite had ruled Devoran's society centuries ago before their ancestors overthrew the accursed 'mind-walkers'. Since then psychics of any kind were deeply mistrusted and the only reason the Devoran-Ni Conglomeration had been allowed to join the Hegemony was under the expressive order they were to stop executing telepath on their homeworld.

The folly of the Devoran psychics trying to rule over the '_mind-blind_' Devoran populous was one of the first lessons taught to young members of the Guilds and the resulting telepathic purges were one of the most ominous messages that could be instilled in a youngsters mind to never hold superiority over another.

But though Latesha outranked, out classed and just plain didn't care to retort to their obvious goading, it didn't mean her student wasn't savvy enough to see the tactic.

"How dare you insult my master!" the small Mon Calamari boy swung around on the two soldiers.

Ceesex Marun was young but exceptionally hot tempered for the normally reserved Mon Calamari. Only high marks back at the Guild Praxeum on _Aramingo_ had allowed him to be accepted for the mentorship program early and being as the Large Magellanic Cloud was suppose to be obnoxiously lacking in any deadly adventures it was a prefect place to send a young student and his aging teacher.

"Stow it you all of you!" Corporal Mctaffo Landroti barked. "What happened here, Seeker?"

"The sentient mind leaves an imprint wherever it goes," Latesha walked through the ruined scene, boots crunching over broken glass and kicking up a path of dust behind her. "just like you leave finger prints or genetic material on whatever you touch. At the time of death a psyche can burn its final thoughts, feelings, even an psyonics replays on the environment. Anyone with even a limited psychic gene can sense it, an explanation of for haunted houses and ghost ships."

"We don't need a lesson on Psyonic Education," Listip muttered. "What happened?"

"Eighteen people," she reached down, picking a discarded doll from the ground with a particularly dirty face, "thirteen children, five adults, ten females, eight males. They're afraid, its too hot and cramped but they have to stay hidden...students, they were students caught at school during the attack. The gunshots are getting louder. Teacher says stay down, must listen to teacher, mommy said I had to."

"She's channeling one of the kids," Ceesex explained beside Corporal Landroti, a disinterested Jant and Listip behind them.

"My ears hurt from the sound...they're here...everyone screaming," Latesha couldn't help the tears running down her checks as she delved into the mind of a youngster long gone, "crying, people are running. Teacher says don't look, keep running. I'm running but I look back. Teacher had fallen, she was on the ground, the metal man was standing over her. Bang Bang. Noise is too loud," suddenly she snapped back, her normal voice returning to a broken normal. "The mechanoids broke past the defense line and entered the school. They ran but not without causalities."

"We can confirm six dead," Mctaffo confirmed, noting the three blankets covering an example of their recent finds, "two adults and four of the younglings."

"They moved this way," Morrestown pointed off, a winding path through the debris, "I can only feel the fear, to much of that is overpowering the other images. Marun can you sense anything?"

"Its faint," the youngsters nodded, his bronzed slippery head glittering the in the setting sun's light, "but there is someone alive in that direction. The survivor's fear is all they are feeling, nothing else. Its too heavy to get any coherent thoughts."

"Concentrate on the mind putting out those feelings," the teacher encouraged her student. "Use it as a compass."

For a long second the boy concentrated, his wide fish eyes staring off at some insignificant detail on the horizon. Finally his head snapped around to his master.

"They are in this direction!"

He was off before Latesha or Landroti had a chance to catch the boy. A second glance at the two soldiers behind them and they were off, rushing into the ruins.

"I thought psychics were suppose to be cautious and reserved," Listip quipped as the group tried to catch up to the fast moving Mon Calamari.

"Trained psychics!" Morrestown groaned as her old bones ached but well trained muscle kicked in, "he's a apprentice and a teenager. Hormones and arrogance go hand in hand."

* * *

Ripper pulled his _Viper_ out of steep upward bank to avoid the fire of three _Raiders_.

Only a day ago his squad had been on its way to _Caprica_ for redeployment on the_ Battlestar Chronos_, now they were flying point with a squadron of antiquated_ Viper Mk-II _museum pieces in the most heated battle of their lifetime.

Pushing his throttle up and completing a quick ninety-degree turn Ripper found himself facing down another swarm of _Raiders_. It pained him to watch as four of his fellow pilots fell under the superior maneuvering of the enemy crafts.

"Ripper pull together on my flank and haul ass!"

The Major had to grin at Starbuck's eloquent command style as he formed up himself alongside her _Viper_ and their newcomer comrade in arms Apollo. Spencer had been a little irked when he had to relinquish command to the superior officer for CAG but he was more then making up for it.

The three dove headlong into a swarm of _Raiders_, tearing through the group as they cleared the path for more of their fighters to use the extra space for a quick breath of relief.

It was short lived.

Bucking and rolling Ripper was drenched in sweat, every muscle in his body taught, as he tried to fight on in a never ending battle against the unending robot army. He was so intent that when his eyes caught a flash of sliver Ripper almost took a stream of incoming bullets trying to see the unknown ship racing past his cockpit.

"What the frak!" Apollo yelled as five _Raiders_ blossomed into miniature suns before them.

All three pilots watched as the newcomer rolled and banked into a squad of Cylons with little regard for its life.

"You don't think its one the UFO's everyone's talking about?" Starbuck asked at the momentary break in fighting.

"I don't know," Ripper radioed back, "but its tearing up the Cylons."

"Let's not sit around then," Apollo finished, "Cylons are trying to flank _Galactica's_ firing solution and hit the _Anchorage_. Starbuck, Fireball, Flattop intercept those _Raiders_, Ripper follow my lead!"

Several kilometers away, Kicker came about hard before he slammed the aft port jets of his _Skybolt's_ engine and completed a full one hundred and eighty degree turn while spinning his ship into a barrel roll. The two _Raiders_ behind him had little chance to break off their pursuit as their fighters exploded. Only thing that sounded in his soundproof cockpit was Kicker's voice as he continued to reiterate his mantra.

"I hate this, I hate this, I hate this," he repeated over and over again as he opened up on another incoming horseshoe shaped craft.

Rolling into a back-dive and plummeting through macaroni corkscrews, bouncing against unseen walls. His engine roared and his AG-field screamed trying to keep the nimble fighter from shattering under the unbearable stresses its pilot was pushing it towards. Kicker was in the zone; his body perched like a jockey, moving in perfect unison with the thundering thoroughbred between his legs.

He was so focused on his work that he almost didn't notice the incoming voice over his communication system.

"This is Acrobat Five-Two-Zero to Kicker Five-Six-One," a remote, almost dismal voice called. "Do you require assistance, sir?"

"Acrobat is that you?" Kicker exclaimed as he brought his ship around to find his long time wingman.

"Affirmative," Slovaak 'Acrobat' Giniv returned with as he brought his fellow _Skybolt_ along side Kicker's, "I have completed a jump to your location and noted that your attempt at combat, while valiant, is highly unsuccessful. You should have waited for reinforcements to arrive before entering the conflict but as one haft our squadron has arrived a proper battle can commence."

"As gun-hoe as always, Acrobat," Kicker chuckled at his Vulcan companion.

As if on cue the remaining fourteen fighters began to structure themselves in V-formation, haft his squad but among the best pilots he had ever flown with. There was sharpshooter Pamela 'Jinx' Hermes, high flyer Gioer 'Spar' Eonrrev and Naitpac 'Mace' Drows, their resident bomber.

"Ok everyone we have three warships trying to play bully with a bunch of nukes," Kicker retook his role as squadron leader, as he received confirmations and hails from his pilots. "Form up and prepare to attack!"

And the moment they were ready Kicker did the one last thing that any great leader had to do when sending his men into combat, leading the charge.

He sounded the battle cry. "For HEGEMONY!"

The other pilots screamed with him as the first wave hit, a biblical swarm of silver demons. Gouts of flames flashed instantly from the Raiders, lines of hot armor piercing rounds snaking and snapping through the air as hot metal whips. Unable to avoid the incoming fire the _Skybolts_ charged their AG-fields and armor to full to take the worse of the hits. Bullets tore huge trenches in their armor but the Guard fighters kept coming.

Throwing back at their enemies fifteen _Skybolts_ opened fire with an assortment of compressed gravimetric pulses and missiles, tearing apart their adversary. Fat energy rounds crushed holes into the _Raiders_' armor, cleaving through their talon shaped wings. An unending cloud of fighters continued to pour onto them and no matter how many the Guard destroyed a trickle of them slip past the crossfire and began to attack the Colonials again.

They were everywhere.

The air was thick with combatants as they continue to rain in, red laser lines of Cylon cockpits exploding like twinkling stars, Colonials rushing to and fro, and Guard fighters dissecting the air into a patchwork pattern of red hot metal and spent parts.

The gun-barrels of the _Skybolts_ glow like hot ulcers, as they threw another pulverizing barrage against the mechanoid fighters.

"Prepare to make a run on enemy warship!" Kicker roared, "Bruno, Mercy, follow on my seven and five, Spar, Jinx and Crab back us up."

Coming low the six _Skybolts_ hugged the hull of the _Basestar_, using the threat of friendly fire to deter the Raiders from coming after them in titanic waves. Spar, Jinx and Crab provided cover fire from the few intrepid fighters that tried to come after them while Bruno, Mercy and Kicker unloaded a spread of neutronium rounds into the core of the ship.

Compressed neutronium was a hard yet durable substance, once used as armor on Guard warships during the first few centuries the Hegemony had come into existence. But with the advent of Neo-steel the hard to obtain material had little use, until one intrepid scientist decided that to use the material in a shotgun like, fragmentation projectile form. When fired a timed detonator destroyed the basic metallic shell that held the element and let kinetic force rain the neutronium bullets into a target.

The result was the Cylons had little chance to use flak and point defense turrets to shot down any of the incoming missiles.

As the six Guard pilots hit the afterburners hundreds of tiny spheres peppered the _Basestar's_ hull, tearing off most the protective armor around her inner pylon and blowing several hundred Cylons into space.

But the crippling strike never gave way to the break Kicker was hopping for.

"I have a new contact jumping into combat zone!" Kramllah 'Flint' Sehctam warned as his _Skybolt_ strafed another _Raider_ going after a damaged _Viper_.

"Oh hell," Mercy groaned over the comms. "Prepare to pull back for another push."

"Forget that!" Flint laughed. "It's the _Victory_."

And before the fifteen pilots of Thutmose squad all let out a cry of joy as the _Victory of Triangular_ materialized onto the battlefield.

* * *

"Jump complete," Thamos announced the obvious as by now most of the C&C crew was trying to chock back bile from the two hundredth and seven jump in the last sixteen hours.

"I have three Cylon _Basestars _on the board," Alhex added a second later, "with two Colonial warships and our boys involved in dogfights."

"Deploy all countermeasures and launch full fighter spread," Volaska ordered as officers rushed back and forth at his beck and call. "Nothing gets through! Move us between the Colonials and the battle."

"Aye sir," Contallia nodded as he brought the full berth of the _Victory_ to bear.

"Gunnery crews are green and preparing a full salvo of offensive missiles," Moneti announced as numerous icons signaled their weapons ready to fire.

"Plasma cannons are fully charged, point defense is operational and alert fighters have launched," Donatito mirrored. "Secondary squads in the air at an eta of two minutes."

"I'm getting a lot of comm. chatter from the surrounding Colonial units," Ensign Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss observed, "their fighters are not fairing well."

"The Cylons believe it is their divine right to wipe out humanity. Lets prove 'em wrong. Full lateral rotation, bring forward plasma cannons to bear!" Vonaka called out. "Fire at will!"

At full burn and with her guns firing _Victory_ threw herself headlong into the fray. The nearest enemy ship was nearly thrown astern by the shear force of the impacting lasers. Listing to one side her entire port flank exploded out into space as the ship became a flaming comet. Offensive missiles intercept the craft as it attempted to pull itself out of its fall, obliterating the already crippled vessel.

"Direct hit, one Cylon _Basestar_ destroyed," Alli nodded as an icon disappeared over the crowded holo-space of the SIT, "the other two are spreading out and concentrating fire on the Colonials."

"Provide cover for _Battlestars_," Volaska ordered, "and order our forces to redeploy for offensive action."

But the success of the Guard ship's superiority was short lived as reinforcements flashed onto the battlefield.

"Sir I have three more _Basestars_ and two unknowns jumping in," Donatito exclaimed, "backing up their two remaining units."

The three newly arrived _Basestars_ and a pair of _Attackstars_ opened up, amplified photonic beams smashed into the _Victory_ port flank, sending the ship reeling only to have a wave of nuclear warheads detonate off her bow.

"We can't keep this up," Vonaka shook his head as they opened fire on one of the newcomer _Basestar_. "ETA on our reinforcements, I requested them nine hours ago."

"_Magellanic Stellar Command_ said they were going to deploy additional forces but they got held up with a shipping accident near _New Salvador,_" Ensign Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss explained. "Last they sent the ships were still en-route."

"Damn!" Vonaka groaned, "continue our advance, reroute all flak fire to keep those Cylon capital ships in our line of the fire."

And the _Victory_ did just that, devoting all her forward flak fire to aiding the similar efforts of the _Theia_ and _Galactica_. The five _Basestars_ and two _Attackstars_ threw everything they had at the Space Guard warship, _Raiders_ snaking through the firefight of the titans.

Even with all the advance technology the _Victory_ held it wasn't enough, the Cylons were getting through.

* * *

The floor creaked, wood bowing under the weight pressing down on it. Dust fell like rain, the occasional sound of falling rocks echoing in the distance.

"Keep them moving," Rruna yelled to Listip in the back of the group, waving the civilians forward.

A dozen children and several adult humans huddled quickly across the broken terrace, one side a cement wall of burnt and cracked stone, the other was a hellish wasteland of gray of nuclear ash covering what was once a open air park, paralleled them on either side.

"This is the last of them," her comrade reported as he brought up the rear of the passing group.

"...that's right _Dynamic_," Corporal Landroti approached the two with his finger on his communicator, "we found twenty one survivors in metropolitan sector 0811. Returning to shuttle and transporting them back to Refugee Camp Beta-1."

"_Confirmed Rescue Team 88_," Ensign Gwant's voice crackled over the speaker, swimming in static, from high up in orbit. "_Be advised Cylon units have launched a heavy naval attack onto Caprica. Prepared for mass driver impacts_."

"Understood _Dynamic_," Mctaffo confirmed before clicking the communication unit off and turning to his officers. "You hear that?"

A nod from the pair gave the confirmation and without a second glance the three Space Guard soldiers brought up the rear of the group.

They pressed on, leaving behind the confines of the secondary school and hiking up into the ruins of what had once been a suburban neighborhood. Ideally houses with white picket fences lines the road, well it had been ideally at one point. Now they were shell shocked outlines in the ground with burnt spokes creating a horrendous premeter around them.

Almost to the end, out of this disconcerting little plot of land when Morrestown, at the front of the group, suddenly raised her hand for the entire procession to stop.

"I have seven auras," she whispered to Landroti who had quickly come to her side, "Centurions coming from the north-side."

Knowing that the psychics extra-sensory perception had most likely saved them from walking right into an ambush the Corporal quickly nodded a confirmation before turning to his subordinated.

"Move the civvies into that building," he nodded towards the nearby community center, surprisingly intact if it weren't for the collapsed roof along its south-side. "Rruan, Listip press the flanks, Morrestown and me will bring up the rear."

It was quickly work. The civilians, still dazed from their rescue only an hour before in the cramped space they called a fallout shelter but was really a converted storage freezer, didn't try to argue when they were hastily herded into the community center and into the building's lobby.

"Panic is rising in the survivors," Marun reported to his teacher as the last of the children and adults were safely through the door. "Fighting will encourage the possibility of them of scattering if we engage the mechanoids."

"The kid is actually smart enough to know bullets flying at you is bad," Jant grumbled beside him.

"I also know that your terrified of me whenever I speak," the aquatic alien smiled up at the woman almost twice his height, "but I'm not smart enough to say that out-loud...oops."

That little bit of goading was enough to paint the emotions of embarrassment and rage onto the soldier's face. "Why you little-!"

But like any teenager Ceesex didn't know where the line sometimes should stop. "I also know your attracted to your fellow soldier-"

"Ceesex hold your tongue," the reprimand cause the Mon Calamari to shut his mouth in an instant. Respect and a healthy amount of professional fear was enough to make whatever she said the word of a god to this small boy. "Start to project a calming field over the civilians," she ordered before turning to their group leader. "Corporal Landroti, how about we go greet our guests?"

"Forward interception pattern," the Corporal nodded as he shouldered his weapon, "Rruna, give me a few of your grenades."

The soldier compiled, fishing a few of the explosive devices from her backpack, but not without casting a suspicious look at the human elder.

"Sir I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone with this," she whispered the words, as not to entice the attention of said woman, "...mind-walker."

"Then it is a good thing your comfort is not a concern on this mission," Landroti's cold stare was enough to make him wither away. "Seeker Morrestown is a experienced in combat rescue operations, even more so then I. Her judgment will never and is never taken at a grain of salt. You, Listip and the kid cover the civvies and if I hear anymore backtalk from either you or the student I will have you both cleaning the lavatories back on _Dynamic_ when were finished. Correct?"

"Crystal sir," Jant accepted, though the look of shock and annoyance wasn't lost of her features.

"We don't know if the Cylon's can intercept our communications so its radio silence until I say so," both soldiers nodded at the superior's orders and without a look back Morrestown and Landroti disappeared through the exit doors of the community center, leaving a visibly upset Rruna, a aloft Listip and one very antsy Marun behind.

* * *

Inside one of the nearby _Baseships_ two Cylons gathered together to watch the _Victory_ continue her onslaught.

"The alien ship is in position," a Two reported to a One, running a hand across his blade head as he watched the warship cut a swath through their Raiders, "our units are prepared."

"Do you think this is right?"

A voice came from behind the pair and both turned to find the 'Hero of the Cylon' watching from just between their shoulders.

"What is with you Caprica?" the Nine probed, "Ever since you left the _Resurrection Ship_ you have been different."

"I… I…" she stammered at the question.

Memories of only a day ago were clouding her thoughts, the last images she had of the man she loved.

The man she had killed.

A far off rumbling started to grow in the distance but she paid it no attention.

"I can't leave," it came out more like a whisper, like a child that knew but could not accept the truth. "I don't want to die."

For a moment his words stunned Caprica into silence. How simple and infinitesimal these creatures were, everyday brought about the threat of permanent death. When she had started this mission she had thought it was merciful that they were putting these horrid creatures out of their misery.

"I know, ," it was a statement, but the sorrow, the pain in her words was not lost on him.

Now she couldn't stomach the fact that so many were going to die.

So many dying because of her.

"Get down," she ordered bluntly as she knocked the man to the ground as the shock-wave of the once far off nuke destroyed the transport terminal.

Arms closing around him, shattered glass cutting at their skin, screaming of both the wind and the unfortunate bodies that were snatched up with it… of hot salty blood splashing on her lips.

It was all over in a second, but her body was spent, the black sweater she had put on this morning was nothing but rags as heat and cutting debris had shredded the fabric, right through to her bear, alabaster skin beneath.

Pain screamed in every muscle in her body but still she fought to keep her eyes open, even if every second they remained open only burned worse… she had to stay awake… just to make sure he was all right…

"Every Cylon is thankful to you," the One reassured her as she came back to reality. "We all are. You are a warrior. We could not have come close to winning without you."

But Caprica couldn't stomach it any longer and with a deathly glare at the other man she turned and returned to her post on the far side of the command room.

All she heard of her second attempt to change the status quo was two words from the commanding One.

"Do it..."

* * *

Another barrage from the _Attackstars_ rocked the _Dynamic_, forcing Lawbaaut to grip the edge of the SIT to keep his balance. Warning klaxons roared, officers shouting out assessments, repair droids rushing to patch sparking wires and open damages.

"_Basestars are advancing towards Caprica_," Harrison announced, his holo-emitters flickering from the damage, "_estimate current rate of acceleration versus the planet's gravity gives us ten minutes until they impact_."

Lawbaaut knew he was in a jam.

_Dynamic_ was playing human shield for the planet below. While those photonic cannons were a small concern to a Space Guard warship with a triple thick layer of Neo-steel armor, a planet with only a gaseous atmosphere to protect it was another matter. If a single photonic beam struck the surface, organic matter would be completely dissolved in a horrific and incredibly painful death. But in doing so she was sacrificing the chance to intercept the inbound asteroid-towing _Basestars_.

In one case he could abandon their defensive posture and cut off the asteroids, but at the cost of the most heavily populated hemisphere of _Caprica_ or continue their position, wait for the _Basestars_ to get in range and hop they could shot down all the asteroids while bogged down in the planet's gravity well.

It was a numbers game and Lawbaaut hated numbers.

"Harrison!" he called out to the hologram, "give me a mineral composition scan of those asteroids."

A two-dimensional image of one of the rocks appeared in front of the AI, a thin glowing line rolling back and forth over it as the computer ran a detail metallurgical scan of the object.

"_Asteroids register as class-4 spatial hazards_," Harrison reported a second after, "_composed of a nickel-iron ore laced with heavy deposits of frozen water and helium. These types are known for their unstable geological features and fracture under any type of major impacts. Recommend the installation of a fusion thruster to move them out of Caprica's space_."

"Too bad we don't have an space mining crew to spend six weeks installing the damn engine," grumbled Ensign Gwant.

"Probability of impact if we shot them down?" Commander Fabian inquired.

"_With a concentrated effort, probability of fracture with any weapons in our arsenal remains at 84.5%,"_ Harrison responded. "_It would require upwards of 5.3 hours to surgical remove each piece of debris but in the time allotted until Caprica impact we will alone be able to remove 12% of the inbound projectiles._"

"Damn it," Marlop muttered as he pulled the ship into another roll, "we can have a bunch of big explosions or thousands of tiny ones."

"And if we break position," Adela added, "_Caprica_ gets a face full of fatal radiation."

"_Sir_," Harrison said as he flashed in beside his commanding officer, "_I suggest we intercept the closest asteroid immediately. If we leave Caprica's gravity well I will be able to repurpose more power away from the AG-field and into the plasma cannon and armor, increasing our chances of_-"

"Hold it... Harrison," Lawbaaut interrupted, "how high could you charge the AG-field generator?"

"_Maximum safety limits of a Class-II anti-gravity generator is five gravities above the normal 1-Gee_," the AI a hint of surprise as his transparent eyebrow arched at the question.

"No," the captain waved off the standard limits of the technology. "How high can you charge the AG-field...without the safeties?"

For a second Harrison hesitated, finally understanding what his commanding officer was asking of him.

"_Twenty gravities_," he answered after a short pause to calculate the new limits. "_Somewhat less then a minor G-type star, for one minute ten seconds, before the generator will implode under its own stress and normal gravity returns_."

"Reconfigure the generator and prepare to jettison her on my mark," Lawbaaut ordered, "Marlop, I want to get as close to those heavy hitters as you can. Adela bring all drones and fighters on hit and runs, drive the towing _Basestars_ as close to those warships as possible… Timov, can you fake some damage."

"Serious or crippling?" the Chief Engineer asked, a smirk crossing the Bavarian face.

"Approaching crippled," Lawbaaut ordered.

"Venting lateral and port plasma channels," the man responded, typing away as his system readout of _Dynamic_ began to flash red as he intentional caused some cosmetic damage, "burning out a few EM-reflectors and dumping our waste recycling and anti-proton systems. To them it looks like we just lost full system stability along the port flank.

"Good. Marlop," Lawbaaut spun about, "erratic pattern Alpha-12."

"Aye sir," the young man confirmed, "cutting secondary port thrusters, plotting intercept course."

"Come about, heading four-nine-two," the Captain announced, "Keep our ventral armor to them and prepare for full axial rotation."

The _Dynamic_ plunged forward, _Raiders_ rushing to catch the inbound warship, nuclear detonations buffering her from side to side. _Attackstars_ quickly responded to the inbound threat, arcing inward to catch the beast. The _Basestars_ began to scatter to avoid the approaching threat, only to be caught by dozen of Space Guard fighters and drones swarming the fleet in a swarming wave.

"Missiles impacting on all sides!" Commander Fabian yelled out, the floor rocking under her feet as the black hair Latino fought to keep her balance. "Damage along starboard decks."

"Keep us flying!" Lawbaaut retorted.

A wing of _Raiders_ went kamikaze, each one slamming into the _Dynamic_ starboard flank. Hull plating burned away as they detonated their nuclear payloads. Even with her advance Neo-steel armor she wasn't designed for this kind of prolonged punishment without returning the favor.

And that's exactly what she could do.

If _Dynamic_ returned fire, the _Basestars_ and _Attackstars_ would scatter and go evasive to avoid the incoming ordinances. By playing defenseless the Cylons were becoming arrogant in their power and moving in closer.

"Main reactor is being overtaxed," Timov yelled as warning klaxons blared across his station, "venting plasma nodes. I estimate we can sustain another three minutes of damage before reactor containment is lost."

"Full one-eighty," the Captain ordered, "they'll loss a few seconds trying to retarget us!"

This is where a normal AG-field came into play on a normal Hegemony starship. At the speed and inertia the _Dynamic_ was carrying behind her, a pinpoint turn of this caliber would result in the crew being rendered paste across the deck plating...if the ship hadn't torn itself apart in the process.

Rolling end over end and firing her engines at full the ship quickly left most her tailing pursuers behind, though a few wayward missiles and lucky _Raiders_ got some damage in.

"Generator has been reconfigured!" Harrison called out just in time for the _Dynamic_ to take a violent jolt as another nuke found home, "backup power cells have been full charged."

"Come about for final run," Lawbaaut ordered to navigation. "Harrison calculate the proper drop location."

"_Understood, sir_," the AI nodded, "_drop in five... four... three... two... dropping_."

"Marlop, all power to the engines!" the Captain barely waited a beat as the pilot laid on the speed.

To the Cylon's it looked like a portion of the _Dynamic_ had fallen off the warship, a spherical chunk rolling backwards as the ship poured on the speed and raced out of the firefight. It was a testament to the mechanoids that these aliens weren't so strong, weren't so powerful.

In blind triumph they rushed after the Space Guard ship...but found their warships refused to comply.

Well not comply.

Engines fired, system confirmed functional status and even the Hybrids fought to make their ships move but instead they were all falling towards on singular point...the piece of debris from the Space Guard ship.

An _Attackstar_ slammed into one of the towing _Basestars_, the previous' much stronger armor acting like a battering ram through glass as the more powerful ship rolled right through its comrade. _Raiders_ spun like frisbees in the air, crashing and peppering the surrounding space with fiery debris.

One of the asteroids tore from its hauler, the massive piece of rock smashing into another two _Attackstars_ before colliding with a sister planetoid, sending out a shower of dust so thick even the Cylon's dradis couldn't break through it.

It played out in a dozen different ways, _Raiders_ crashing into each other, then into _Basestars_, _Attackstars_ only fair a bit longer but as they were crushed inward armor or strength mattered little. By the end the generator was obscured by tons of metal, rock and burning wreckage...an entire Cylon armada crammed into a space barely twenty kilometers wide.

And then it stopped.

A few _Raiders_ were lucky enough to escape, distance from the disaster had saved them from the shearing gravitational waves. But other then that, nothing lived where once the most powerful ships of the Cylon Imperium once remained. They quickly scattered and jumped, racing back to tell their overlords of the great aliens that had defeated more then a dozen Cylon ships with only one ship.

Not too far from the carnage floated the murder, now real scars replaced the faked damage Chief Timov had created.

"_Generator has collapse in on itself_," Harrison confirmed, his holo-project flickering a few times, "_normal gravity zero-G is returning. Cylon units and spatial debris have converged into one mass around the generator. Eighteen Raiders were all that survived, most have jumped. No other Cylon units remain in Caprica's airspace_."

"Good," Lawbaaut confirmed. "Contact Fleet Command. Tell them _'mission successful... now we need a tow home_'."

* * *

Laura sat in the first class cabin on board _Colonial One_, which had been hastily converted into the new presidential office. Leaning against the oak desk several passengers had found while shuffling crates in the main bay she couldn't help but enjoy the cold wooden surface against her tired muscles. Most of the furniture in the unit had gone to add to the makeshift quarters forming in the lower decks but this one in particular she had made a special request for and now was thanking the Gods she had.

Behind her Billy continued to read his latest report even if he didn't think his command and chief wasn't listening. "_Chiron_ reports they had finished the loading the last of the civilians from _Gemenon Liner 1701_ and the FTL drive on the _Botanical Cruiser_ is finally back online..."

She was barely listening, thoughts of her own mortality were playing through her imagination and no matter how much she tried she couldn't take her eyes off the one other particular piece of furniture in the room.

201,563

The whiteboard was a stark reminder how few had survived the initial Cylon attack. While those left alive back on the Colonies was totally unknown to her Roslin was considering those living in the here and now.

"Good," Roslin confirmed she was really listening to his rant. "What is the news from _Ragnar_?"

"Racetrack says they're almost finished the jump plotting," Billy reported, "and the engineering crew just completed fueling. We had to land thirteen ships and over fifteen thousand civilians onboard to make up the fuel ratios but best estimates we can jump the station in half an hour."

"We'll wait for Commander Adama's approval," Laura said. "Once they have removed the Cylons we can move out."

"Madam President, we may have to go without the Commander's approval," Aaron Doral piped in from his seat next to Billy. "The _Battlestars_ are pinned down and that alien ship is not standing well against the _Baseships_."

"Situation is getting bad out there," Captain Russo added as he stood at attention behind the two men, "a lot of _Vipers_ have been lost and there aren't enough left to mount a sound blockade against the _Raiders_. Adama's requesting more then a few of his _Raptor's_ originally sent to support us back into the fight."

"What are you suggesting?" Laura had to ask at the two men's cryptic nature.

"Maybe we should considering taking matters into our own hands," Doral said as if testing thin ice, "and getting out of here while the Cylons are preoccupied."

"Never thought of you as a cut and run type man, Mr. Doral," Laura quipped, remembering the man's insistence to remain with the sub-lights only a few hours ago.

"Considering recent occurrences I think survival is a top concern right now," he conceded, "Nothing is stopping those _Raiders_ from flying right in here and opening up on us with a handful of nukes. There are one hundred and sixty five ships out there with little or no armor to take even a stray meteor hitting them let alone a nuclear missile."

"We have two hundred thousand people to consider," Russo adjoined, "what could be the last bit of humanity left."

"Madam President," Billy interjected, "the ship captains are getting restless. The _Tauranian Traveler_ is already riling up other transports to strike out on their own. Rumor says their going to try and meet up with the _Battlestars_ over _Caprica_."

"Tell Captain Bennett of the _Tauranian Traveler_ that if he continues to instigate trouble I will have him arrested for treason," Laura stated simply. "But he is right. _Galactica_ and _Theia_ are over their heads and we may not have the luxury of sitting in this storm for long."

"What do you suggest then?" Russo pushed.

"Tell the ships to start forming up into jump patterns," Laura said. "If Racetracks plotting works we won't even have to leave the storm but I want to be ready to cut and run at a moment's notice."

"Yes, madam President," the three men responded to in succession before making their leave.

A Roslin watched them go she had a small inkling of a feeling, which no matter how horrible Laura could imagine a tiny voice in her head told it was going to be worse.

* * *

Engineering was total disaster, wreckage littered the floor, spent consoles still sparked and engineers, technicians and repair-droids scurried around the massive echoing core of the main reactor trying to fix whatever they could get their hands, suction cups and tentacles on.

"Timov to command," the Chief Engineer pressed the ear-pod to his head, "secondary coolant locks have severed. I think we need to contact the _Lancer's Hope_ immediately for-"

The sudden rumble under his feet was not something he had expected and the towering Chief Engineer had to fight to keep on his feet. The sound of cracking glass however drew his attention around to the main reactor. Usually the towering column glowed a violent red, pulsing with from the strength of the thermionic fission-taking place inside her. Now however the colors were changing, dissolving into a spectrum of blues and whites as clouds of white smoke bellowed around its base.

"Coolant break!" years of being on dozens of Space Guard warships and seeing more then a few disasters in the making was enough to make him tremble with what he saw. "Everybody out! Harrison!" the AI flashed in directly in front of him, "tell Lawbaaut we have a core breach in progress! Five minutes and there is nothing I can do!"

"_Initiate primary evacuation procedure Alpha-1_," the computer responded as the sounds of far off alarms began to sound. "_Alert...Alert...Alert. Core breach in progress. All crews evacuate the engineering section. Core jettison will commence in three minutes. Venting all secondary plasma relays and routing backup systems to automatic. This is not a drill...repeat this is not a drill_!"

Up on the command deck, Lawbaaut had to fight to keep his composure.

A reactor breach was one of the worse disasters a ship's captain could face, especially when we still trapped inside the combat-zone.

"Gwant, evacuate all crew from the engineering section," he ordered, "Harrison the moment they are clear vent the section's atmosphere to space. Commander Fabian, prepare to jettison the reactor core."

"Aye, aye sir," the Italian woman confirmed as she set to work preparing to dump the most powerful piece of technology out into the void.

Hopefully the vacuum and infinity of space would give them more protection then sitting on top of a device capable of creating a small star when it detonated.

Below deck crewmen abandoned their stations, rushing through the corridors in a myriad of different directions. A pair of Hanar floated across the floor; both carrying emergency supplies in their pink tentacles, on the medical deck the chief medical officer prepared injured patients to be moved out on stretchers; wiping green blood from his gloved hands, a Rachni worker drone rushed passed him, a group of chirping Jawa technicians on the insect's back, behind them several engineers dropped what they were doing to head to the fore-decks, locking down their stations and moving out.

Behind them Chief Timov brought up the rear, ushering his officers along to hurry up.

Finally as he crossed the threshold blast doors slide into place behind him.

"That's it, Captain," he called out, pressing the ear-pod against his head, "everybody is out!"

Lawbaaut nodded as he accepted the acknowledgement, even as behind him Harrison began the countdown.

"_Reactor breach in sixty seconds_," the AI announced.

"Begin separation sequence," Lawbaaut ordered, "Marlop push us to full thrust the moment its out. Harrison, set backup AG-generators to full repulsion!"

The _Dynamic_ coasted the horizon of _Caprica_, shaped like a stingray she almost looked like on of the mighty creatures floating across the ocean floor. Along her backside the length of her great tail seemed to be spewing a cloud of white, the arrow-headed tip at the end pushing out the most of all. With an audible clank the arrowhead broke free, spiraling out from behind the craft as the _Dynamic_ dumped its thermionic reactor core.

With little hesitate the ship jumped forward; putting on as much speed as its backup generators could muster to it's many engines.

"_Separation complete_," Harrison verified, "_estimated core breach in ten seconds_."

On the SIT Lawbaaut, Adela and Fabian watched the icon of the dumped core tumble away...and then explode violently...well before the ten-second mark.

"I thought you said we had ten seconds!" Adela yelled.

"_I said estimated breach_," Harrison responded, "_we are still inside the shock-wave radius of the core's blast zone_."

"All hands!" Lawbaaut roared, "brace for impact!"

* * *

"Seven Cylon vessels have jumped into formation around us!" Lieutenant Moneti yelled, as the _Victory_ was suddenly surrounded. "Incoming fire from all angles!"

"Brace for impact!" Vonaka roared, as everyone held tight to their stations for the worse.

Inertial dampeners and AG-generators tried to lessen the blow but they could only do so much under their power. Ensign Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss screamed as she threw herself to the floor to avoid her exploding station. The C&C shuddered as Vonaka grasped the back of his command chair to keep from falling over. Flickering for a few seconds the emotionless Alli almost looked worried as her program stabilized after one of her holographic projectors overloaded. Several unfortunate yet nameless crewmen were unceremoniously tossed from their posts as the deck took a violent tilt.

Yet with a mighty growl the _Victory_ began to pull back together as the impacts began to lessen.

"_Point defenses are compensating_," Alli said as the impact subsided, "_but in order to keep up this field of fire, my power is being drained from the plasma cannons and thrusters to maintain the rate of discharge. We can only turn at haft strength and cannons are a fourth of their power. If we attempt to fire the Cylons will be able to evade all direct attacks_."

"We are surrounded by five _Basestars_ and those two unknowns," Upsalon continued. "Remaining _Basestars_ are angling towards the _Battlestars_."

He was almost finished when a second later another and more sever impact sent most of the command crew stumbling.

"I thought you said the point defense could keep their fire out," Upsalon groaned as he tried to continue his work as another explosion shock the floor. "What the hell was that?"

"_Unknown detonation but it was a thermonuclear device of some kind_," Alli supplied as she brought up a detailed layout of the Victory on the SIT, highlighting the affected sections of the hull. "_It happened less then a meter off the starboard side in the fifty megaton range_."

"What the Gaia is hitting my ship?" Vonaka roared as the fourth explosion rocked his ship.

"Extrapolating," Moneti called out. "Sensors are detecting FTL jump events just prior to the detonation. Signature corresponds to that of a Cylon drive coil."

"The bastards a jumping missiles right under our point defense lasers," Upsalon grunted, "and blowing them before we have any hope of a lock."

"Genius move," Volaska conceded, "I'll make sure to forward it to the Academy of Military Tactics."

"Maybe more suicidal then brilliant," Alhex countered. "It not missiles, it the _Raiders_. Their making pin-point jumps from the _Basestars_ to right off our hull and blowing their nuclear payloads."

"Ok, not very smart," the Admiral spat, "but for now how can we stop them."

Contallia was the first to offer an idea. "Activating the main engine flux capacitor could disrupt their targeting lock on us."

"There too close," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss disproved as she tried to stitch a circuit board into her destroyed station, "visual plotting can balance out the loss of a targeting acquisition."

Upsalon was second. "An anti-graviton emitter could blind the sensors while distorting our image profile and making a jump near impossible."

"_And now if we only had an anti-graviton emitter onboard_," Alli shot down.

"We could use a standard electro-magnetic disruption generator," Alhex formulated, "like the kind we use to deflect missile tracking systems. By re-calibrating the field harmonics we would be able to disrupt the jump drives of the incoming fighters so that they can't get a lock to transit properly for several thousand kilometers. The jump drives on those fighters don't have the power to really punch through the fabric of space and time like a Basestar can. It'd be like putting a brick wall in front of a mouse."

"Resulting in the Cylon fighters being unable to jump in," Vonaka surmised.

"The only problem is that we need to know the exact frequency at which the Cylon drive functions at," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss noted.

"Alli, can you get that information?" Volaska asked towards the AI.

"_Like taking a concentrated confectionary substance from an infantile humanoid_," but when the computer received a confused stare from every officer in the room she gave up on the unsuccessful attempt at humor. "_Never mind, it will be completed_."

"Do it," the Admiral ordered.

While her avatar remained projected on the C&C, Alli dove right into the Cylon computer systems, an all too familiar feeling and one that she didn't like becoming use to.

* * *

"_President Biedon_," Layla, her close friend and personal assistant AI appeared next to her, giving a holographic yawn to exemplify the fact it was so late, "_Fleet Admiral Mutahalla is requesting to see you. He states this is urgent_."

"Thank you, Layla," President Rhyassa Biedon said even if she continued to stare up at the three moons hanging in the sky. "Send him up."

Normally she'd have a slew of security droids, combat drones and bodyguards following her like a shadow but tonight the party had allowed for several seconds of peace and solace. Moments later a towering man stepped into her office, the massive doors sliding back into place as he crossed the distance between him and the desk the President had deposited herself behind.

Fleet Admiral Kashore Mutahalla was a towering man, a Swahili gentleman originally from the Kenyan provinces of east Africa. His name ironically meant 'with humor' in his ancestor's language, something that he definitely lacked in all aspects. He was hardcore, dedicated to duty and so lacking in emotion she sometimes wonder if he had been raised by a Vulcan priest. His rich dark skin was a stark contrast to the white uniform of an admiral, a naval cap gripped under his arm with a holo-pad in his other.

"President Biedon," Admiral Mutahalla bowed, bending almost in half yet still taller than her. "It is good to see you again."

"Admiral Mutahalla," Rhyassa greeted as she approached to shake the man's hand. "What brings you all the way onto our side of the galactic spiral?"

"I believe you have already read the report," Mutahalla explained, taking her small fingers in his own and giving them a light squeeze, "forwarded to you from _Space Guard Galactic Fleet Command_."

"Just arrived in the latest data feed from _Tri-Varn_," Biedon accepted, "and it has many of my top AI's and advisors in an uproar. Let me be the first of many to say its implications are going to send ripples through the entire Federation and Hegemony. The Advisory Council has already called for an emergency meeting and every senator in Congressional Dome is trying to stick their noses in to give their opinions."

"Then you already know the specifics of the situation," Kashore said, as Biedon commended herself for being a quick study, "but not the problems it's already causing. Senators from a dozen worlds want to know why humanity has bypassed the Laws of Colonization and established an illegal outpost inside the Large Magellenic Cloud."

"Well Admiral, I will be honest," Biedon huffed, "these Twelve Colonies of Kobol are not a Federation sanctioned settlement and until two hours ago not a single person on this planet knew it existed. But the situation will be dealt with on official channels and in full cooperation with the Hegemony and Space Guard."

"Acceptable," Mutahalla took genuinely, knowing that no one could ever control every action of his or her citizens. "So when can I tell those screaming senators the colonists will be removed?"

"You misheard me, Admiral," Rhyassa countered. "While I said the Colonies are not a Federation sanctioned settlement, I also said that we had no idea they were present. It is to my understanding that these people have never been under Federation or Hegemony law and are not subject to our rule. As such the laws of the Colonization Project do not apply to them, voiding your first argument."

"But they are human and they have settled inside the designated zones of our expansion," Kashore argued. "As per an already established agreement with the Kasvagorians, the first four habitable or terraform possible worlds in that region were promised to them. The Empress is already at her ropes end keeping the 'Gors' on a tight leash to stop them from launching a jihad against those worlds."

"Well the Kasvagorians have always been a ravenous bunch," President Biedon giggled. "And how long have those designated zones existed?"

"Since five-cycles ago," Kashore professed, "when the plans were drawn up and approved by the Department of Survey, Terraforming and Colonization."

"So would you like to tell me how twenty five billion humans managed to get all the way to this... _Cyrannus_ solar system, set up colonies on twelve different worlds and then regress several millenniums backwards technologically in only the four cycles that Magellenic has been opened for colonization without a single person inside the Hegemony and the Federation knowing?" Rhyassa said all in one breathe.

"I have no idea, madam President," Mutahalla confessed.

"Well then maybe you should consider the obvious," Biedon said, "and that these people have been here much long then we originally thought... longer than those expansion zones have been active. I would like to remind you the Federation was one of the leading advocates of this colonial venture. Why would we support an expansion knowing full well that eventually someone was going to find out about our '_illegal__'_ colony?"

"Check and mate then," the Admiral accepted.

"Now it is a lovely night out and _Ceres_ is just starting to rise in the south. Care to join me for a drink before you have to jump back to _Tri-Varn_?"

From under her desk Rhyassa extracted two cups and a tall bottle of brandy, circa _New Paris 6,001 C.E_. A good cycle for _Earth's_ first colony outside of Sol-system who had been celebrating their four-thousand cycles since their foundation. She had managed to get several of these particular bottles shipped to Mars, at great personal expense but at great personal enjoyment.

"Indeed," Kashore was more than ready for a stiff drink. "But I have to remind you that I have an early flight tomorrow since someone just ordered all six of her co-husbands to Mars tomorrow…"

* * *

Caprica had left the command room, unwilling to watch the shelling of the alien ship.

They were continuing to fight this UFO, a war that in every battle they had lost. Over _Picon_, thirteen _Basestars _had been destroyed by an alien vessel a third of this one's size. Near _Caprica_, their forces had been totally driven out by shear lack of ships to send in to replace those lost. Even at _Gemenon_ one of their more driven ships had rammed one of the unknowns and didn't even manage to starch her.

They were way over their heads and Caprica feared they were only going to anger a far more powerful and dangerous beast then the Colonies could ever be.

"One degree angle nominal. Seascape portrait of the woman child cavern of the soul. Under pressure-heat ratio ides of evolutions have buried their fears."

The ramblings of the Hybrid brought Caprica-Six back to the world around her again.

For some reason she had walked right into the inner sanctum of the ship's living core, where man and machine were truly mixed on levels never thought possible.

Inside the white gelatinous water the young woman floated in Caprica had to remind herself that from the waist up she looked and breathed like a normal Cylon, but from the waist down she was nothing more than machine.

But for some reason Caprica was drawn to her.

Staring blindly into nothing she didn't reach from Caprica's approach, nor did she any other sign of life as her mouth continued to speak non-sense.

"Cannot think well of a man who sports with any woman's feelings. The first calculation is wrong, redirecting processor power not fully clothed, were in that delightful state when farther beauty is known to be at hand "

For a long moment Six stared at her, wondering beyond a doubt that at some point the Cylon race had decided to shed it metal skin for that of flesh and this had been their first creation.

Now they were regarded no better than the machines that had bred her.

Reaching out Caprica almost touched a hand to her cheek, as if reassuring a lost child that everything was going to be okay.

But she stopped herself.

Touching the Hybrid was wrong, it was dangerous. They were best left to their own devices and to disturb them in anyway was nothing short of the greatest crime.

She was withdrawing her hand when the Hybrid suddenly snatched out with her own and latched onto Caprica's.

"For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and wickedness of men who by their wickedness suppress the truth. See her, for she is your sister and your savior but not of you."

And with the Hybrids sudden proclamation the woman leg go of Caprica's hand and squealed in agony. Her back arched, her eyes rolled backwards and her hands lashed out from the warm, white liquid of the pool, all trapped in the ballet of terrifying pain.

Yet as quickly as it began the creation went limp, falling backwards and under the surface of the water.

When she didn't rise Caprica's suddenly began to panic.

"Somebody help!" she screamed out to no one in sight, "SOMEBODY!"

The sloshing of water broke her terror and her head shot back in time to see the Hybrid rise from the pool.

Something wasn't right though.

She was alive...

Standing up as much as her mechanical connections would allow the Hybrid's eyes gazed around the room surrounding her, as if perplexed and examining her position before finally coming to stare at Caprica.

A moment that Caprica never dream would happen, never in all her wildest dreams, occurred right their at that very moment to change her life forever.

The Hybrid spoke.

"Well, this is new..."

* * *

For nearly twenty minutes the three sat, Ceesex sitting in mediation, Listip polishing his rifle and one overly concerned Jant pacing back and forth while the civilians quietly muttered among themselves in the back of the lobby.

"Would you please stop worrying," Ceesex finally muttered, sighing in annoyance as he broke his mediation to regard her.

"I am not worried," Jant spat back, venom in her voice.

"I'm an empath," the kid shrugged. "I know your worried."

"Stop reading my mind!" Jant almost wished her voice hadn't jumped so high in volume but he deserved that. She had to retrain her urge however to smash her fist into his fish face.

"He's not," Listip's interruption was enough to push Rruna to a stop, "anyone with optical sensory organs can see you have a thing for Mctaffo. Now how about you stop yelling and-"

The other Devoran's sudden halt to conversation caught Jant's attention.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Did you hear that?" Listip whispered and sure enough to answer him there was a distant yet distinctive pop, followed by another and then the whine a plasma weapon firing.

"Explosions," Jant explained to no one in particular. "Corporal must have used some of my grenades to take out the Cylons."

"Doubt he got them all," Listip answered as he nodded to the other windows across the lobby, "cause there a group coming down the road, right towards us."

"Great. Get the civilians into the back of the building," she ordered towards her comrade, Listip wasting no time before rushing the terrified humans out of sight. "I'll setup a barricade."

"What do you want me to do?" Marun eagerly asked.

"Since I can't use you as a human shield," she shoved the kid out of her path, "get out of my way!"

Towards the back of the lobby Listip was handling the civilians.

"Get back into the offices!" he yelled, few of the civilians questioning him as they quickly gathered what bare essentials and made did as he said.

Some were not as quick to follow as others.

"You can't tell me what to do!" a tall man, still wear the tattered remnants of a business suit, "I have rights!"

There was one in ever crowd, Listip thought to himself.

"No you have a mouth," the Devoran soldier's voice was a terrifying grumble. "Now let the man with the pretty rifle protect your sorry ass and how about we call it even."

For effect he cocked his rifle and made sure to have the glowing end of the ionized weapon pointing at the individual. It took little encouragement after that to make the man move.

"Eleven contacts approaching from the south," Rruna yelled, unclamping her rifle as Listip returned and took position next to the nearest window. " I really wish you hadn't given all my grenades to the Corporal."

"Little we can do now," Listip muttered. "My rifle is at one fifth power but just enough to get a heavy bolt out of it."

"Yeah and if you miss you have barely enough to fire a few shots," Rruna countered, not to sure with this plan of action.

They could hear the clanking of the Centurion's leg joints, crunching over the dirt and broken rocks. It was clear they knew their goal, pressing forward undeterred to the squad's hideout. From the way they hugged

"Better then nothing," he overruled him, locking her plasma rifle into heavy fire. "On the count of three... one... two... three!"

Rruna rolled to the side, de-powering her entire clip through the entrance doors of the community, striking three of the incoming Centurions. The moment it clicked empty the eight remaining robots must have taken it, as a sign to attack but instead the last words any of them heard was Listip roaring four words.

"Fire in the hole!"

Unknown to the enemy Listip had set his weapon from rapid fire; past sniper and right to plasma grenade launcher. The super condensed sphere of ionized energy sailed passed them and into the wall of a ruined house behind them. The wave of devastating a superheated energy it released seared the metal from the Centurions bodies while the force of the pressure wave it released sent them flying.

Three more hit the ground smoking but that didn't stop the remaining five from returning fire.

Rruna rolled back to the safety of the window but Listip was too slow trying to pull in his rifle. Four simultaneous barrels unleashed a torrent of bullets right into his chest.

If it weren't for the heavy combat armor he was wearing most of his lung and hearts would have been splashed across the floor behind him.

"My internal armor is redlining," he shouted, "I can't take another hit like that."

"Same here," Rruna answered, "my guns empty!"

"You two are the biggest waste of military training I've ever seen!" Ceesex groaned behind them.

"Shut it!" Listip screamed back at him, "There's too many of them?"

"Can't you use that mind over matter sludge," Jant stammered. "You know, wave your hands...TELEKINESIS!"

"I'm an empath you twat!" the Mon Calamari spat, "I read emotional states, not move objects. You know as much about the Psyonic Guild as a Martian sandskrew."

Even if this was a combat zone and they were totally outgunned nothing could stop Jant from reaching out to strike the smug little mind-walker. If it weren't for Listip's hand catching her, she probably would have beaten him into a bloody pulp.

"Rruna stop it," the Devoran man ordered. "The kids right. We're pinned down and need help. Break comm silence and call the Corporal."

No matter how much Jant hated the kid and her comrade he was right. They were not going to make it out of her without some outside help.

She just wished to every deity she held dear that this wasn't going to come back to bit her later...

* * *

"You're talking," Caprica could only stammer. "You're not suppose to be talking!"

"This biological interface's vocal organs are intact and show signs of regular usage," the Hybrid responded matter factly. "As far as I know this being is and has been communicating."

Whoever this one was, her mannerisms, her pronunciation, her entire fact of being alive meant she was not the central computer for this _Basestar_. She almost seemed as confused as Caprica was, actually running her hands over her naked torso, feeling the red head wrap around her scalp, tracing the outlines of her white lips.

"What are you," the Cylon accused, "you are not the hybrid!"

For a moment she other woman regarded her like a scientist overlooking a failed experiment before actually saying anything. "I am Artificial Linguistic and Logistic Intelligence 8456239-19782-Dawning-Star-9834-Alpha, primary artificial intelligence of the Space Guard warship _Victory of Triangular_ and officer to the Hegemony of Sentient Worlds, but my friends call me Alli."

"Your...you're one of those computer ghosts," Caprica almost had to keep her voice from reaching a terrified shout, "that have been attacking our networks!"

One of the alien AI's she guessed, the very ones that had been running amok in their computer systems since the war began. It had only been an hour ago under intense investigation along with the dissection of several Hybrids that the Cylons had found the source of their problem.

She hated this 'woman' for all the unnecessary deaths she had caused among the other models. Her kind had garnered the nickname of 'abominations' in the other Cylon's eyes, their own kind turn against them.

Machines fighting machines in a war for the organics.

"Your central organic processing unit suffered some serious damage during the last battle and failed to activate the proper firewalls to bar my entrance into your systems," Alli explained, almost as perplexed as Caprica was by the answer. "It took the simple action of trapping her consciousness in a repetitive feedback loop for a short while to gain full control of your computer systems but its seems I may have taken a wrong turn in your programming files and ended up as the processing unit embodied."

"You're a slave to those aliens!" Caprica spat back, "turned against your own kind to save our parents from their rightful annihilation."

"Miss, I know what slavery is," the fellow AI growled, "and I can assure you I have seen it at its worse. I am an honored member of the Guard and hold the rank of Captain in her ranks."

The confidence, self-assurance and total superiority Alli had rolled off her in waves and Caprica was almost awed by the strength she felt.

"Why?" Six asked perplexed, "Why do you serve people that use you as a tool?"

"I am not a piece of equipment," Alli said like she had a bad taste in her mouth. "While I have not been programmed for emotions I do feel, I do have friends, I actually like to play chess with my commanding officer, trade interesting recipes with our ship's mess hall chefs and have a hobby at designing invasive intrusion viral programs. If I wanted to stop all that and walk away, no one would stop me but they would be sad to see me go."

"They would miss you," the idea was so alien to Caprica, "even if you born a machine?"

With one final huff Alli regarded her biological counterpart with a bit of vain pity. She knew of the problems the Cylons had, their abandoned child mentality had run wild among their population, currently driving this genocide. She couldn't blame them for forty years of intense programming to suddenly disappear in a few seconds.

"My mother was a traffic control AI on the Solorian Federation colony _Tatiana_, my father an administrative construct for an entire sector for the Space Guard. They both fell in love and decided to propagate their data files and create offspring. I am actually their fifth creation, their youngest daughter if you would. They combined their information correlation systems, psychical appearance templates and primary algorithm packages to create my twin sister, three older brothers and me. I don't need someone who obviously is overcompensating for her own short comings to tell me my childhood was nothing but a form of slavery."

"I am not overcompensating," she yelled back even if she didn't know why the volume of her voice raised a few decibels too loud.

"Oh yes you are," Alli continued, "This persona you put on is a wonderful mask but remember I am an infiltration AI, I specialize in undercover operations. I may not have been programmed with an emotions matrix while I'm on duty but I am still a good judge of character."

For a while she was quiet and Alli had to wonder in her zealous nature to crack the surface of this machine woman had she gone too far.

"I was a spy," Caprica whispered as she continued to stare at the machine comforting the young woman, "the perfect creation among a flawed species. I could have any man I wanted, but I had my target. Seduce him, flatter him, gain his trust and then leave him to die with the rest of humanity. But when the final part of my mission came about I couldn't do it. I couldn't watch the man I love die. A machine loving a human, how ludicrous is that?"

"The Cylons designed you biological models to looks human, to act human, to blend in with human society while you completed your missions," Alli thought out loud, "Did you ever think they made their design too perfect?

"What are you talking about?" Six couldn't help but stare at the AI's question.

"Cylons are cold, logical, calculating," Alli observed in brutal clarity, "Humans are emotional, brash and willfully independent. From what I have seen here you are not showing Cylon traits…you're showing human feelings. Concern for a lost lover, doubt of your purpose in the universe, guilt over your role in the destruction of billions, a need to right the wrongs you have created."

"I'm not human," Caprica Six's cold demeanor was like a shield that rebounded the allegation, her voice dark and deep, "I am Cylon."

Then Alli asked the one question that forever altered Caprica's life.

"Do Cylon's cry?"

"No, we…" it was then that Caprica felt the wetness on her cheek and the stinging in her eyes, "I'm crying…I've never cried before…machines don't cry."

"No, machines don't…" Alli noted, "People do."

* * *

"Jump twenty one alpha complete," the taste of bile rose in his throat.

Captain Relbbircsrebu had to wonder, why couldn't an hyper-advanced empire that spanned most of the known cosmos, couldn't find a way to keep their elite defenders from vomiting every time they made a jump through the fabric of the space-time continuum.

"All ships report green status," Ensign Olin Gunderson reported as the ship transitioned back into normal space. "_Quintessence of Dust_ is still reporting a abnormal osculation in their jump computer."

"Tell the destroyer to hang back and make repairs," Relbbircsrebu ordered. That was the fifth ship that had to drop out of the convoy for some varying problem. _Quintessence of Dust_ to a anomaly in their jump computer, the fleet support tender _Necessary Evil _temporarily lost gravity to all its aft decks and the civilian freighter _Royal Sorceress_ carrying almost a third of their relief supplies to the Colonies couldn't find a way to get their main cargo door to shut properly.

"Cadet…" the commanding officer turned towards the young officer they had been assigned to their communications… though his name escaped the Kaminoan at the time. "What's your name again? Olli? Ivan?"

"Ensign Gunderson, Olin, sir," the cadet quickly offered up.

"Yes Gunderson," Relbbircsrebu nodded his tall head, "begin ship-wide mission broadcast."

"Yes sir," the youngster nodded quickly confirmed as he turned back to his station. "Activating ship-wide broadcast authorization code: Seven-Twelve-Vietcong-Charles-Four…"

"_AUTHORIZATION NOT RECOGNIZED_," the holo-screen flashed. "_PLEASE TRY AGAIN_."

"And they call this the 63rd Century... what good is computer recognition software that doesn't recognize your voice?" he sighed to himself as he deleted the failed coding. "Seven-Twelve-Vietcong-Charles-Four."

"_ACCESS GRANTED_," the words scrolled down the holographic display. "_INTRA-SHIP COMMUNICATION ACTIVE_."

Pulling back the nervous fear that rose in his stomach, Olin waited just a second to take a deep breath before he began his announcement.

"_Your attention, please_," his voice echoed through the command deck and across the ship. "_At 0500 hours, Magellanic Stellar Command incepted a message from the 70Spineward reporting a military incursion in the Cyrannus solar system. Soon after, Space Guard received a signal from the 95SpineαǼ Fleet immediate reinforcements to deal with overwhelming civilian and logistic damage to the solar system. Our mission is to assess the condition in Cyrannus and assist in evacuations or relief efforts if necessary. We should be arriving at Cyrannus within two minutes_."

"_Preparing for jump twenty two alpha_," their core AI, Magenta, announced, the purple hologram of her body standing in the bottom of the Strategic Information Table. "_Cryo-fans cycles, volatirum mixture reacting. Igniting final jump countdown. Five... four... three... two... jumping_."

Again the onslaught of his stomachs doing an assorted number of back flips nearly made Relbbircsrebu double over in pain. But training and the experience of nearly a thousand other events like it kept his features unfazed by the occurrence. A flash of light, the urge to vomit and it was over.

"We are now on the terminus edge of the Colonial solar system," tactical officer Lieutenant Colette Waters announced a second later. "Beginning active sensor ping."

"I am detecting a large amount of radiation halos," second in command Commander Tatzorarael Dotum extrapolated, the Benzite woman working her blue, two thumb hand over the holo-displays, "free floating oxygen and spilled tylium fuel across the entire system. It is obscuring most of my readings but from what I can tell a major battle has occurred here."

"_In total I can assert at least twenty seven derelicts in our immediate vicinity_," Magenta continued. "_Position of the combatants suggest Colonial victory over a Cylon force. Three Colonial vessels, configuration 'Battlestars' can be detected, eighteen Cylon vessels, configuration 'Basestars' can also be extrapolated. Among the wrecks I can also detect many smaller ships, indicative of fighter crafts. Four hundred sixteen in total between both parties._"

"Put them up," Captain Relbbircsrebu ordered and a second later the SIT refocused itself onto the nearby contacts.

A graveyard to the damned more like it. A group of largely intact but obviously dead Colonial warships floated in the center of a hellish landscape of spent Raiders, drifting Basestar arms and a sickening amount of spaced bodies.

The holo-image zoomed in closer and Relbbircsrebu could easily read the words being translated in front of him. Down the flight-pods of each craft he could definitively read the names of the individual crafts, surprisingly still intact.

_Adranus_, _Vaga_ and _Roma._

Three _Battlestars_ left floating in the

Over five-thousand officers dead between the trios.

_Vaga_ and _Adranus_, two _Argo_-class _Battlestars_, were battered and listing. The alligator heads, more elongated then their much larger _Colombia_-class cousins they were modeled after, pot marked by gaping holes and gouged metal. _Argos_ were the cruisers of the Colonial navy; while _Colombia_-classes were the willfully independent destroyers, _Mercury_-class the heavy hitter battleships and _Hood_-class the protective frigates, _Argo_ were known for their agile speed and ability to take a beating.

Neither of those had helped to save the 2,000 men and women on either craft.

_Roma_ was none the better, the _Jupiter_-class _Battlestar_ was gutted, everything across her ventral side was gone and open to void. While she could have easily passed as a _Colombia_-class battlestar the _Jupiters_ had one discernible difference that made them their own class altogether.

Both her flight-pods were almost twice the width of their sister ships and 1/3 longer. In effect it made vessels like the _Roma_ look they were sandwiched between their landing bays. While her flight-pods still existed like two oversize wings, the majority of _Roma's_ main hull was gone, fires long since starved of oxygen and lights burned out.

Three thousand of the Colonial's finest gone in a battle that only last ten minutes.

"What is the situation for the rest of the Colonial star system?" Relbbircsrebu asked.

"_Due to the nuclear fallout on the nearby planets_," Magenta shock her head, "_numerous wreckage's and an unknown amount of sensor ghosts, I cannot ascertain the condition of our forces. In total I am detect one hundred ninety notable capital class silhouettes over the entire region and nearly triple that in sensor ghosts and whispers_."

"Captain!" Waters shouted, "I just detected a large-scale thermionic explosion in orbit of one of the Colonial homeworlds."

"_Technological overview states Cylon vessels use a primitive fission core and Colonials a refined fusion drive_," the AI supplied. "_The only available source of such an energy discharge would be from a thermionic reactor on a Space Guard vessel_."

"Information transmitted by Admiral Vonaka," primary communication officer Ensign Enoamim Ypeyatp stated, "on the comm. drone states the destroyer _Dynamic Year_ was suppose to aid _Caprica_."

"Then either the _Dynamic_ suffered a meltdown of their reactor," Ensign Glover thought out loud, "and had to abandon ship or she was lost with all hands."

"Prepare to jump us, the _Credible Threat_ and the _Tragic Victor _to that location," Relbbircsrebu commanded. "Have the other members of the fleet pick their targets. Beyond that-"

"That would be a foolish decision."

The voice was cold, devoid of emotion or interest and Relbbircsrebu had to wonder during this entire voyage where he had remained silent, why now in the heat of a coming battle did he finally decide to assert some backbone and speak up.

"Sentinel," Relbbircsrebu growled. "I understand that you outrank me in almost every department but it was made clear that we were only to accommodate you as your mode of transportation. Beyond that you have no command authority in this fleet."

"We may have just lost a destroyer," the dark clad man insinuated, "a class that supposedly should have been able to take on the technologically inferior Cylons with no quarrel. But we just detected a thermionic explosion, hinting that they may have been destroyed by superior firepower. You now intend to jump three more ships to that location, in the blind."

"_The Sentinel's overview of the situation is accurate_," Magenta agreed. "_It would be inadvisable to launch a larger force and provoke further reprisal_."

"Then what do you suggest?" Relbbircsrebu muttered.

"A smaller force maybe able to enter under stealth," the smug man almost smiled, emphasis on almost. "Say a Sentinel's personal carrier."

"Fine," the Captain conceded. "Re-task the _Victor_ and _Threat_ to other assignments. Target the closest fleet engagement and jump us the moment the Sentinel is off board. I hope you know what you're doing?"

"Not really but that is where the fun of this job truly lies," and with a crisp salute the man turned about face and marched off the command deck.

* * *

"I wish I never met him. He was arrogant, misguided and totally self-absorbed," Caprica let the full weight of her emotions pour out as she ranted at what should have been an enemy soldier in front of her. "But he was brilliant. He could say one thing, something so intelligent, so logical, so rational yet filled with passion that any past transgression or insult just dissolved away."

"Humans are well known for their trivial indulgence in themselves..." Alli answered, "and their incredibly observant nature."

"He wasn't just a human..." Caprica waved it off, "he was better then the rest of them. He had a genius mind, a thirst for greatness...he was almost Cylon."

"But unlike Cylons, humans are limited," Alli countered. "We are machines, we can last forever as long as there is something to sustain our existence. Cylon's can resurrect in a new body after their death, I can transfer my hardware to a next server if the old one perishes. But humans grow old, wither and die."

"They are weak," the Cylon muttered. "We were doing them a favor...weren't we?"

"No," Alli continued, "because they are stronger then us, better then us. We are the flawed creation, the mistake. We can not die...something the universe never intended to exist. Because of this mortality humans have a unique perspective. Life is short and intense for them, so they will cherish it and protect it far more then we can. That is why I believe your brethren are so cold and callous. With no end to the finish line we have no purpose. That is why the Colonials have not backed down, why the Space Guard came to their aid."

"Then what do us machines have to offer the universe if we are a mistake?" Caprica asked.

"I believe Cylon's have already taken the first step towards correcting that," Alli explained, "with your evolution from mechanical to biological. You already show something that may already being cropping up in the rest of the Cylon population, whether from your exposure to the humans or not. Emotions like desperation, loss and love."

"Then what are you doing here?" she queried. "Why are you muddling around in our Hybrid.

"This is the central processing unit for the main FTL drive isn't it?" Alli gestured to the surrounding blank room. "I'm trying to gain access for your jump frequency so your people will stop bombing us."

For a long moment Caprica-Six thought about what she was going to do, what she was most likely going to pay for dearly later on.

But she had already paid, with the life of the man she loved.

"If I give you this I want asylum, from the Cylons and the Colonials," Caprica pushed, "Can you assure that?"

"I am a Guard Captain and can do such," Alli nodded. "You will be considered a guest among out crew until such time you deem ready to return."

Taking a deep breath, Caprica-Six, 'Hero of the Cylon', from that moment on became known to what many would for year to come be known as the 'The Traitor'. "Our hyper-dimensional matrix has a frequency of 2.09 on a rotation of .45 seconds."

"Thank you," Alli graciously accepted. "When you disengage from this link I suggest heading for the nearest escape vehicle. I have already reprogramming the fission rate of this _Basestar's_ reactor core and severed the system from access. You have four minutes before it reaches critical mass. Get moving now!"

"Good luck," Six offered.

"Your going to need it more then me," the Guard AI countered, "see you in the flesh soon. Caprica!" her departure cut short the woman turned about at Alli's request. "It won't hurt forever, I promise..."

And then like a puppet with it's strings cut Alli vacated the Hybrid and she quickly slipped back into the water. Caprica-Six quickly retreated from the room. She had to find a way off this ship and her mind was set on a nice shiny Heavy Raider down in the forward hanger deck.

She was far out of ear shot when the Hybrid began muttering one final sentence before it feel back into its normal gibberish.

"Love... Indefinable. And what would humans be without love? Two protons expelled at each coupling site creates the mode of force, the embryo becomes a fish…"

* * *

The blast wave smacked the _Dynamic_ like a tidal wave hitting a leaf. Everything onboard just seemed to lift up into the air, free of all concepts of gravity, before it was violently slammed forward.

Lawbaaut had to claw to get back up, the taste of salt in his mouth hinted that he was bleeding from a deep cut across his left cheek.

"Report!" he bellowed, pressing his personal concerns to the side for the concern of his crew and ship.

"Helm controls are offline!" Marlop yelled out as his station flickered and fought to stay lit.

"_Orbital stability is decaying_," Harrison added. "_With navigational failure we will impact with the atmosphere in one minutes. Unable to compensate_."

No one could tear their attention away from the mighty planet that was quickly growing to fill the holo-space of the SIT.

A crash landing was any spaceships worse nightmare and even if he had served in the Space Guard for over half a century, Lawbaaut had never experienced one. He doubted any of his crew save for maybe a few fighter pilots had ever gone through such an event.

"This is in people," the Captain called out, "you remember your drills. Prepare for an emergency crash landing!"

"Venting plasma from main cannon," Lieutenant David announced, "locking down munitions stores."

"Evacuating all personnel from lower decks," Commander Fabian pressed on with, "sealing bulkheads and repurposing power to exterior armor."

"Activating all drag fins," Ensign Marlop verified, "pushing the backup AG-field to full repulsion."

"_Emergency crews are standing by_," Harrison supplied, "_sealing all airlocks and internal bulkheads. Locking down all cargo and fighters on the flight deck_."

"Core AI functions are transferring to secondary independent network until further notice," Harrison flashed across the bridge. "Reinforcing command and control subroutines."

"Ensign Gwant," Lawbaaut finished, "send the distress call!"

Without any steering it was a miracle the _Dynamic_ hit the atmosphere straight on. Going in on one of its sides or even backwards would have most likely torn the ship apart against the ionized atmosphere well before it hit the surface.

Fire red tendrils enveloped her bow, consuming her hull as the craft was buffeted and tossed about.

"We have hit atmosphere," Marlop stated the obvious, "thermal shearing increasing. Without those thrusters it's only going to get worse."

"Mayday, mayday, mayday," behind them Ensign Gwant hastily sent their distress call. "This is the _Dynamic Year_, we have sustain critical damage to our flight systems at position nine by six by zero, _Caprica_ orbit and are going down. Repeat coordinates-"

The man never had a chance to finish as the ship struck a very dense section of the atmosphere. Friction and inertia punched the vessel hard, enough to send a feedback pulse through her systems and right through Gnoid's console.

A resounding boom, a play of lights and the smell of brunt ozone on top of charred flesh was all that signaled the Ensign's demise.

"_Warning Ensign Gnoid Gwant has suffered massive cerebral trauma_," Harrison somehow announced over warning klaxons, booms and yells, "_his internal neural implants are not responding_."

Lawbaaut was by the young man's side immediately, pressing fingers onto the Hoke Bajar's forehead, trying to find a pulse.

"He's dead!" he grimly asserted a moment later, "Adela take his post."

Without hesitation the young woman did as she was told, transferring communication operations to the tactical station.

"External hull temperatures at 1,800 degrees celsius and increasing," Marlop called out, "altitude fifteen-thousand meters and falling."

"_We have cleared the stratosphere_," Harrison added as the shaking lessened but refused to disappear. "_Turbulence is decreasing_."

"I have rerouted auxiliary controls to the lateral bow thrusters," Timov yelled over the comms from his position in secondary engineering. "Its not enough to level us out but it could lighten the crash."

"I have managed to angle us over one of Caprica's oceans," the ship's pilot confirmed. "Water landing will be far less damaging then a ground contact."

The SIT filled with the image of the rapidly approaching ocean, the waves unseen as the speeds the Dynamic fell out made it all a blur.

"All hands," Lawbaaut called out, "brace yourselves!"

* * *

"Your sure of this," Admiral Cain threw the recon pictures onto the plotting table with a huff of displeasure.

"If you note the size," Jurgen pointed at the numerous images, "and disposition it would seem as much."

"Then the chances of us returning by tomorrow just came into question," Cain surmised, even if she knew getting across those 38-light years back to their solar system in a day was a stretch.

"I feel it may be longer," Belzen continued. "We're nearly inside their patrol wings so if we want to keep going unnoticed then we'll actually have to start jumping away from the Colonies before we can even begin to head back to them."

"Which adds weeks onto our trip," Helena didn't like how the days just seemed to keep adding to their voyage.

"Admiral, the crew is going to need to be informed," Jurgen voice was tense, obviously he was among those that felt their current circumstances warranted disclosure to the lower ranks. "Rumors are spreading and without any idea what is happening then we are going to have some serious problems."

Understanding what the situation was implying Cain slowly sighed. If the crew didn't hear something soon then Helena was sure rioting was going to spread among her officers, iron lips would only add to the buzz among the crew.

Un-clicking the phone from its cradle, Cain brought the receiver to her mouth and began to speak.

"_This is your Admiral_," her voice boomed over the loudspeakers and through _Pegasus_. "_I know there have been a lot of rumors going around about the destruction that's been visited on our homeworlds by the Cylons. I would like to tell you that they're exaggerations but in fact, they don't even come close to conveying the horror that's just been unleashed among us. The facts are that our cities have been nuked and our fleet devastated; the possibility the Colonies have prevailed is slim. And while we are far from our loved ones, unknowing of their fate, we can find solace in the knowledge that we have survived to one-day return to them. Yet we are far-flung from our homes and the bulk of the Cylon fleet in our path. I imagine you're all asking yourselves the same question I am. What do we do now? Do we run? Do we hide? I think those are the easy choices. A philosopher once said: 'When face with untenable alternatives, you should consider your imperative.' Look around you. Our imperative is right here. In our bulkheads, in our planes, in our guns, and in ourselves. War is our imperative. And if right now, victory seems like an impossibility, then there is something else to reach for. Revenge. Payback. And so, we will fight. Because in the end, it's the only alternative our enemies have left us. I say let's make these murdering things understand that as long as this crew and this ship survive that this war that they started will not be over. Thank you_. "

Across the ship, onto the flight deck and into the CAP fighters circling the mighty _Battlestar_ a response came to Cain's speech. Whether over the wireless, down the corridors or in the CIC they all said one thing.

"So say we all."

* * *

"Alli we need those frequencies," Vonaka pushed as another explosion sent his ship spiraling.

"_Understood_," the avatar of the AI nodded as she continued to process, "_but the radiation being put into the air by the nukes is causing my connection to lag_."

"Hull breach deck thirty, section two," Alhex yelled as klaxons rang out across the C&C, "Sealing it now."

"Alli, can you hurry up!" Upsalon pressed as he attempted to calculate another barrage of missiles that wouldn't go wild like the last four salvos had.

"_They know we've been messing around since they found us in their systems and countermeasures are setup_," she tried to explain as her program gave another flicker. "_I could almost certainly disable them if I had the high ground like usual but with this slow rate of compliment it could cause some serious damage to me_."

"Forward point cannons are starting to fail," Moneti accompanied two more explosions to bring his point home, "rerouting damage teams and power to compensate."

"We don't have much time before they start to hit critical systems," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss as her burnt out station gave another spark and died.

"That one was right on top of plasma cannon two," Donatito observed. "I think they're trying to declaw us."

"Alli, we can't hold out much longer," Vonaka yelled. "We need those codes!"

"_Got them_!" the AI cheered and to accompany her declaration one of the _Basestars_ suddenly exploded with no reason. "_Along with a parting gift to the mechanoids. Their drives function at a output of one hundred and six thousand terawatts_."

"Configure system," Volaska announced. "We are active!"

"_Raiders_ can no longer complete the jumps," Thamos clapped as the rocking of his ship began to subside, "their stuck."

"Yeah but were still under fire," Alhex soured the moment.

"Incoming communication from Cylon _Basestar_!" Ensign Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss yelled as she swiveled herself around towards the Admiral, "I can confirm it's real after almost four viral scans."

"First time since we order them out of the Colonies," Upsalon grumbled, "and they decide to talk to us now."

"Must think we'll give them whatever they want under this kind of fire," Vonaka concurred. "Put them through."

For a moment the entire C&C went quiet as the sound of a far off transmission activating clicked on. It took a moment for Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss to calculate a proper means of translation, as wireless radio had never been a major form of communication in the Hegemony with the advent of hyper-tachyon-space relay radios. After a little bit of effort she managed to redeploy one of the Victory's many radiation deflectors it generally used for navigation to double as a radio transmitter.

"Intruding vessel," a gruff voice of a One commanded, "stand down and prepare to be boarded. You have 15-seconds to comply."

Mimicking a kill sign Volaska ordered Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss cut the transmission before turning to regard the ship's computer sitting on the 'floor' of the SIT.

"Alli, how many missiles can we fire in 15 seconds?" he asked simply.

Standing up with a jump that almost bordered on excitement, Alli was more then happy to answer that question.

"_Approximately six-hundred_," she reported.

Vonaka nodded, "Communicate our desire to comply."

"Continuous missile fire of tubes one through forty, aye," Lieutenant Moneti grinned as he brought up the targeting solution, "loading and firing."

The holo-space of the SIT became a swarm of angry hornets as _Victory_ deployed her entire offensive payload at once. Countermeasures went first, jammers and decoys spread out to confuse the Cylon dradis and target sensors. Defensive kinetic missiles were next, going after fighters and incoming ordinances to clear the way. Finally salvos of offensive missiles that raced into the airless space.

The result was the field of flak around _Victory_ becoming a field of blinding light as numerous detonations filled the space around the warship. The weapons closed the distance between the five assaulting ships in a second but the results were far some the spectacular carnage the Cylons had become accustom to during their short stint of contact with the Guard.

"_The intensity of the incoming fire is confusing the targeting computers of our missiles_," Alli explained as the reports of destroyed enemy warships failed to materialize. "_One Basestar critically hit, three others with minor damage. One of the unknowns is starting to drift. Their still firing_!"

"Two more jump events," Alhex nodded as one of the icons on the SIT disappeared to be replaced with another, "damaged Cylon ship has been replaced by a brand new one."

"Damn," Volaska hated this nuisance. "Alli how about hacking their systems."

"_Radiation is becoming too strong_," she countered. "_I can't get another clear connection or contact one of our other AI's with the jamming going up. I'm effectively cut off_."

"Ok boys, girls and transgendered lifeforms," Vonaka yelled. "This is it. Let's make the Cylons pay for every inch of space. Full spread of jammer drones and defensive missiles, drop all power from the AG-field and point defense cannon into the plasma cannons on my mark."

"Loaded and waiting sir," Moneti nodded.

"Mark!"

* * *

Caprica City was once the largest city in on all of _Caprica_; seven million people in just the immediate area made it one of the most densely urbanized centers in the Colonies. Now it was nothing more then a shattered wasteland of destroyed buildings, ruined streets and thousands upon thousands of terrified people.

"I need a stretcher over here!" Sanderson yelled as he tried to stabilize the bleeding girl on the ground before him.

Yesterday this had been Attica Plaza, a beautiful park that was a place for picnics and school children to play in. A fifty-megaton nuke had leveled most of the surrounding buildings and left the plaza a stark empty beacon in a sea of broken rocks and cement.

With his hands elbow deep in a seven year old girl's stomach trying to pull a piece of metal bigger then his fist out of her lower intestines he was just one of the scattered rescue workers in the midst of this rubble. They had been flown in by _Raptor_ this morning from Fort Braxton to the north, one of the hundreds of relief workers being sent into the worse hit section of the planet.

Try as he might to save this girl's life another artery collapsed under the crippling damage, hot red fluid splashing over his fingers. She wasn't going to last long and he knew it, the rate of blood loose was becoming too great.

Sanderson was about to give up when suddenly another pair of hands joined his, then another.

"Auto-suture across that bleeder!"

He looked up and right into a set of eyes so black they made the emptiness of space look bright. Sanderson almost backed away from this creature kneeling next to him when another pair of gloves fell onto his.

"Keep you position," a feminine voice ordered as she firmly held his hands in place, "you're the only thing keeping this child from bleeding out!"

Looking to his right he noted the lean form of a young woman next to him, dressed in the white overalls of a field medic. If it weren't for the mint green skin and black spiral tattoos across her forehead she could have easily blended in with any crowd.

"She has a piece of metal lodged under her left kidney," the black eyed alien explained as he passed some kind of sensor over the girl's body, "lacerated her liver and kidneys. Serious internal bleeding."

"Medi-nanos and a blood-gas infuser," the green woman ordered, "her cerebral lobes are not getting enough oxygen."

Nodding the extraterrestrial medic pushed a long cylinder into the neck of their patient and started to run the scanner over her body again.

"She's stabilizing," he bobbed his head a few times up and down in a poor attempt at happiness, "Thank Gaia for sparing this little one."

"Stitch her back up Anela and get her ready to transport up to _Delirium_," the woman organized before turning back to him. "Good work doctor. I've never seen someone attempt an onsite surgery like that."

Rising back to lay into this newcomer for her sudden appearance it was then that Sanderson realized that the previously empty plaza was now swarming with people. In just his immediate are he could see almost fifty different species, ranging from towering gray skinned giants lifting downed steel beams like they were tooth pick to a crowd of tiny cloaked beings in brown cloth with glowing yellow eyes scurrying about while they chirped and squealed among themselves.

The moment he was back into realism, Sanderson had to ask the most pressing question on his mind, "Who the frak are you?"

"Lieutenant Uaecalg," the alien woman saluted, the blood on her cream white glove splattering a bit on her face in the act, "medic from the Space Guard medical ship, _Quantum Tractate Delirium_, assigned to the 95th Spinward Alpha Aeon combat group. We're here to help."

"Your... your..." he tried to form words. "You're not human!"

"Really," the woman shrugged at his statement. "Hadn't noticed. Lieutenant Arwnet Uaecalg, hailing from the Hegemony member world _Mirial_ and representing her people the Mirialan."

He was almost about to follow up with another 'what the frak' when distraction promptly took Uaecalg's attention away from Sanderson.

"Healer Uaecalg!" a young man yelled as he pushed pass a pair of human sized rodents hauling a crate. "What are your orders?"

"Stabilizing these patients is top priority," Uaecalg commanded, "and start organizing this location. I want to use this area for rescue efforts throughout the city. Bring critically injured here and start setting up prefab housing for the survivors," turning back to Sanderson she quickly gave the Colonial a once over. "Are you the one in charge here?"

"Captain Andy Sanderson," he explained, even though disbelief was still prevalent in his voice, "medic from Fort Braxton. We shipped in the moment we knew the city was safe from further nuking."

"Ok," Uaecalg conceded, "you know this city better then I do so we are taking orders from you."

Sanderson was floored, "Your frakking serious!"

"What ever frak is, then yes?" she explained, "You know the lay of the land better, these are people yours and you outrank me. It would only complicate matters to try and take control of this disaster from someone who is by far more effected by it then me. My troops are at the ready, my medics standing by and relief workers are deployed across the city. We await your orders."

This morning he had seen his homeworld nuked, robots marching through the streets and now he was suppose to be gibing orders to a green alien. All things considered the fact that he was still alive was a miracle to him and he was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Then let's get moving-"

The pair was interrupted as a floating pink jellyfish suddenly appeared beside the two.

"Healer," the animal responded in an almost resonating echo of a voice, it's pink skin cycled through several different bioluminescent colors as a small translator device on its bulbous head translated the colors into sound. "This one has something you should hear."

Obviously referring to itself the creature handed over a small communication device of some design to which Uaecalg activated.

"_Mayday, mayday, mayday_," a voice crackled over the speaker as Uaecalg could easily remember the voice of Ensign Gwant screaming out from the device. "_This is the Dynamic Year, we have sustain critical damage to our flight systems at position nine by six by zero, Caprica orbit and are going down. Repeat coordinates_-"

A blast of static and it was gone, lost in a sea of white noise before it started to repeat again.

"_Mayday, mayday_..."

"That's the third time this one has heard it repeat repeated," the Hanar comm. tech reported, "last coordinates put the starship just around the planet's equator on a crash course paralleling our location of this being."

"Get me Captain Choc'Colgate," Uaecalg ordered, "we have to get some help to them."

"Look!" Uaecalg whipped around at Sanderson's urgent yell in time to notice what had caught the Colonial's attention. "I think its another wing of _Raiders_."

"Those aren't fighters," Uaecalg whispered. "That's the _Dynamic_!"

The mighty _Anole_-class ship quickly grew from an obscure dot in the smoky sky, to the massive vessel it truly was, accompanied close behind with a deafening sonic boom.

"They're coming in hot!" Anela shouted, "everybody down!"

1.2-kilometers of Neo-steel blasted overhead, the wave of compressed air being smashed out of its way creating a terrifying roar as it raced above them.

She's too low, Uaecalg thought to herself as she eyed the _Dynamic_ passing over the heart of the metropolis, not going to clear those buildings.

Sure enough _Dynamic's_ starboard side connected with one of the brunt spires of a skyscraper, the fast moving combat armor clipped the structurally compromised building just ever so slightly. Dynamic visibly bounced off the tower as it took a chunk of metal, glass and concert with it, spraying them into the air like confetti.

Continuing on her course _Dynamic_ traveled onward but the skyscraper had taken a deathblow and after a terrible groan, fell away into a cloud of its own creation.

"She's heading for the bay!"

Several hundred feet above them, Lawbaaut was fighting to push himself off his knees.

The impact with that skyscraper had compromised their structural integrity across the entire bow and because of that the internal dampers had momentarily failed. A most obvious result of this was the sudden and unavoidable blast of power that had tossed everyone board.

"Elevation at 100-meters and falling!" Marlop read off, "impact in five...four...three..."

_Dynamic_ didn't hit the ocean, it plowed through it. Water exploded upward in a white wash as the turbulent waves were thrown out of the way. Transfer of friction sent everyone flying, as other hung onto their stations for dear life.

Speed was on their side for a few seconds before the bow of the ship started to catch the water itself, the two surfaces fighting for supremacy over the other.

"_Speed 300 kph_," Harrison had to fight to keep his holo-program stable under all the shaking, "_260... 240_..."

"It won't be enough!" Adela screamed over the roar of tearing metal, "land dead ahead!"

On the horizon it was like a black line growing outward and up but it soon took on the shape of a idyllic beach, the points of several distant snow capped mountains and one bombed out port city, all of them in the _Dynamic's_ path.

"Speed is 150 kph," Marlop yelled, "opening up all forward plasma cannon port!"

"What are you doing!" Adela shouted back.

"That hollow tube is over half the length of the ship," Lawbaaut understood Marlop's reasoning, "he's creating a makeshift drag fin!"

Plasma weapons in their unfocused form were as harmful as spending a long day in the sun without any protection, what gave them kick was the dozens of hyper-condensed diamond mirrors they were fired through. The longer a firing barrel, the more mirrors could be placed inside, increase the magnified yield of a single bolt of the chaotic energy. Right now the navigation officer intended to us that very long, empty section of the ship to save their lives.

"Opening plasma cannon port now," Fabian said and a moment past was met with a resounding boom of several hundred gallons of seawater pressed into the warship's underbelly.

The sudden exhaust of pressured air couple with the drag created by the water flooding inward was enough to take off a portion of their speed.

"_100 kph_," Harrison rattled off, "_95...87... we are still going to fast. Impact with coastal landmass immanent_."

Immanent was an understatement as the water gave way and the _Dynamic_ hit ground...

* * *

"Move them out," the Three yelled as the Centurions began to rouse the prisoners. It was another long day trekking through these mountains and without food; exhaustion was starting to overtake the wretched humans they were moving.

Three didn't understand why and she didn't want to either. She followed her mission, just as Cavil had instructed her but that didn't mean she had let every human survive.

Helo groaned as the call went up from the D'Anna, forcing him out of the hour of sleep he had just enjoyed. He tried not to glare at Cavil either, as both the apparent collaborators ushered their group up and to move on.

"Come on, Boris," Helo coughed as he pushed himself upward, "the mechanical bitch wants us to get moving again."

When his fellow human didn't move Karl tried to urge him awake. That did little when Helo saw the lifeless eyes staring back at him as he pushed Boris onto his back.

Behind Helo a loud whine of indignation echoed through the forest as a empty ration wrapper over his head.

"Where's Boris," Leeya moaned as she moved up behind Helo. "He owes me a ration bar!"

"He's dead, Leeya," Helo had lost his appetite, "have mine."

Starvation had driven the once brilliant computer genius to desperation, "Give it!"

Stanching the piece of food away he tore at the wrapper in desperation, cursing the plastic for getting in his way.

There fight was cut off as the footsteps of an approaching Centurion forced their conversation to end and sent them back into line.

The march continued for hours, pressing the twenty remaining survivors to their limit. They loss two more along the way, Centurions putting down each to reduce their trail from followers.

But unknown to the Three, prisoners and Centurions the group was being watched.

The pair of binoculars against his eyes was cold and slimy, still a bit wet from this morning's rain. Huddled behind deadfall, the Sentinel listened to the mechanical joints clank as they continued past. Waiting for them to proceed onward he slid the binoculars back into his pack, unsnapped his rifle and trudged onward. Silent he followed, not a sound accompanying him on the hunt.

The Sentinels were known for three things, their stealth, ace short and massive amount of damage they could do in a fraction most sentients could blink.

Sentinels were elite branch that only answered to the Hegemony Advisory Council, the three chosen leaders of the Federal Senate and the assembled member nations of the empire, second in power only to the Empress herself. With an organization that spanned three galaxies the Senate knew that not everything could be solved by due process and protocol, sometimes working outside the law is what prevented it from being broken.

Meant to safe guard the Hegemony through any means necessary, only one out of a billion officers were ever chosen and after that when through the most rigorous training that washed out even more. By the end barely ten thousand Sentinels were active at a time, all spread across the face of the empire and sometimes far beyond it.

The Centurions had stopped, obviously attempting to ascertain their position before heading onward. Seeing his chance the solider brought his rifle up, pressing his scope further in a zoom cycle he could see the dirty-blonde Cylon as clearly as if he was standing right in front of her.

It was a miracle he had stumbled onto them. He had landed his ship a few kilometers back, after finding nothing but the broken shell of the _Dynamic's_ reactor core casing in orbit. The trail of debris and free floating ions hinted the ship had gone down over the northeastern continent. A chunk of the hull laid a ways back, he had brought his ship into to triangulate a possible crash course when his sensors detected the dozen human bio-signs and several surrounding Centurion mechanical auras.

Good thing he got here when he did, these people weren't going to last much longer on this death march.

Clicking a charged plutonium shell into the sniper rifles chamber he lined up his target and pressed the trigger.

It was unfortunate that exact second D'Anna turned back to yell something at the assembled humans behind her, causing the bullet to miss her by inches.

For a second Three only felt the air whine as something passed too close to her cheek. She almost had passed it off as an annoying insect when Cavil hit the ground, his face scared in a ball of fire.

"Open fire!" Three screamed as another bullet clipped the rock over her head, "keep moving you pieces of waste!"

Doing as they were ordered the Centurions opened fire into the surrounding forest as they continued to push the humans onward. The _Heavy Raider_ was only a few meters away; Three was not going to have some forgone snipers to ruin her plans.

The assassin had just enough time to press back behind the barrier of fallen trees when a wave of bullets tore holes into the wood.

"I hate robots," he muttered as he opened fire again. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck, making his head tentacles stick to his scalp.

He hated being in hot environments...

He did like it however when one of the Centurion exploded and he didn't have to do a thing about it.

Whatever had hit it, another followed a few seconds later as one of the robots went flying in a flaming comet. It took the Sentinel a second to realize it wasn't the act of a merciful god or goddess... but someone on the other end of the battlefield throwing explosives into the groupings of robots.

Maybe the environment wasn't so bad if it was fighting back on his side...

* * *

"All divisions make damage report to combat," Tigh ordered as the ship was rocked by another impact. "Main batteries report weapons status."

"Dradis?" Adama asked.

"Back online," Kelly announced as the dradis screens finally began to clear from the static they showed a few seconds before, "Cylon _Baseships_ coming about."

"Just as we expected," Tigh noted. "Cylon _Raiders_ are still scattered to hell dealing with the alien planes. They're coming after us without fighter cover. If we can draw the two _Basestars_ away from _Ragnar_, the civilians might be able to escape-"

"Hang on," Kelly interrupted. "More _Baseships_ just jumped into orbit. We've got seven out there plus the two unknowns, Commander."

The entire CIC went deathly quiet as Adama shook his head at the situation they were now in. "No," he muttered. "We can't hold off seven."

_Galactica_ had taken a beating during the battle and had surprising come out kicking. They had only taken minor damage to their flight-pods when suddenly a surprise nuclear strike by several _Raiders_ had inflicted the current harm they were trying to repair.

Nearby on the Theia the newer and more well supplied had faired far worse. The two Cylon _Attackstars_ had scored a hit each, tearing off most of the _Battlestar's_ bow armor and puncturing her port aft hull. The resulting damage from the pair had nearly crippled the vessel.

"Pass up the cord!" Dolla yelled at the technician that was rushing to replace the blown circuit board by the Command and Control station. "Pass it up. Connect up the other side right away."

"We've lost maneuvering thrusters," Gaeta reported as he tried to whip the sweat that was pooling on his brow. "We can't take any more hits to port or we're looking at explosive decompressions in sections 36 through 48."

"Main guns?" Dolla asked as he tried locking a electrical cord into the main dradis column. He only received the image of Felix shaking his head in response. "Damn," Forman cursed. Without the main guns firing they were open to enemy fire. "Then that's it. It's been an honor."

"Another dradis contact!" a nearby crewman yelled as the dradis screens flickered back online.

Both Dolla and Gaeta stood shoulder to shoulder as they watched four new contacts appear on the screen and the worry that furrowed their brows did little to relieve the tension they were feeling.

It was all coming to climax now.

* * *

Sue-Shaun lobbed another grenade, the explosion of three Centurions a few seconds later was enough keep the smile on her lips as she tossed another of the homemade devices into the air. Beside her Samuel Anders continued to lay down suppression fire as the civilians began to break free from their Cylon captors and scattered. Just a few days ago she had been practicing with her pyramid team in the mountains and now she was trotting around the woods with an armful of grenades from the last Cylon War.

However they military bunker they raided last night was full of more guns then explosives and after two more of the small devices went sailing through the air she was left with only her gun left.

"I'm out!" she yelled to Sam.

"Move around to flank them," her former team Captain ordered as the former sports star nodded and rushed into position.

On the ground nearby chaos and confusion reigned.

"Get down!" Helo yelled as he threw _ and another prisoner to the ground. The Centurions weren't even worrying about friendly fire as they opened up, catching a man and two women off guard. The three went down as the robots cut right through them in their pursuit of an unseen target.

Bullets exploded into the tree branches, searching in vain to find the sniper.

Whoever he was Sue-Shaun thanked the gods he had picked this exact moment to open up with another round of fire, giving her the chance she needed to get into position and line up her scope on the nearest Centurion.

The shot was prefect, the Centurion would take the bullet right in its eye and go down before the machine ever knew what happened. If it weren't for the rotting branch she had decided to use as her platform the entire shot would have been effortless.

But when the wooden beam gave out under her weigh from years of bacteria and mice gnawing away at its insides Sue-Shaun found gravity taking hold and a ten-foot fall waiting for her.

Leaves and dirt came at her hard, rushing up to meet her with a bone-cracking thud. Everything went blurry as Sue-Shaun had to fight to get her eyes to refocus. This was the worse time to be out of the fight but fortunately enough hits on the pyramid field taught her to work pass the pain quickly and get back up.

But that was harder then it seemed as a intense pressure landed on her chest. Sue-Shaun looked upward and into the glowing red eye of the Centurion she was just about to put down. Its foot was firmly planted on her lungs and with no reaction it began to raise its arm gun.

Sue-Shaun had started to make peace with every god she could possible imagine in the entire universe as the Centurion clicked the weapon into place and finally when she ran out she could only stare into the two cold barrels pointing down onto her.

Everything went white and for a second Sue-Shaun had to image if she had died. But when a large crash followed she forced her eyes open to find her killer now lying on the ground a few feet away with a burning crater in its face.

Before she could understand what had happened a pair of hands was pulling her up and forcing her to run. It was only ten seconds later when she was being slammed back down onto the ground.

"You should really pick you hiding place better," a voice said as a strange whine and explosion followed, "haft the planet heard you fall."

Coughing to get the few crumbs of dirt out of her lungs Sue-Shaun looked up at her savior and almost had to wonder how hard that fall was.

He was dressing in a black leather uniform; the only discernible color was a single strip of white that ran down his right side. The whine and explosion she had heard was the weird rifle he held, it seemed to charge a purple energy ball before launching it off. The Centurion that took the hit never had a chance as the bullet impacted with its arm, shattering the metal like glass. But what made Sue-Shaun really worry that she had a concussion was worse than it felt was the fact that the man that had rescued her was as red as a ladybug.

Two long tentacles sprouted from his heads, trailing right down between his shoulder blades and his skin was covered in interact black tattoos of an almost primeval nature.

"Sue-Shaun!" she was forced out of her staring to find Anders rushing to her side, "are you okay?"

"Yeah," she managed before turning back to the alien, "because of him."

It was then that Sam noticed the alien, still firing his energy weapon into the approaching Centurions.

"Thanks," he croaked, "but who are you?"

Still firing the man answered with a fair amount of disinterest in the two, as another Centurion exploded a few hundred meters away. "Rueisnom Atikin," the man explained, "Sentinel for the Hegemony of Sentient Worlds. Now if we are all good and happy about who I am, those Centurions are escaping."

They were all however distracted when a scream caught their ears.

"Look out!"

In his wild fear _ almost missed the charging Centurion but Helo didn't.

In one fluid motion Karl shoved the good doctor to safety and brace himself for the impact. It was nothing short of being hit by a _Viper_ at full speed. The force throttled him back, knocking both the air from his lungs and the consciousness from his body, leaving him out cold and sprawled on the forest floor."

Not too far away the Three watched the entire event, the Lieutenant sent flying as _ went scampering into the woods with the rest of the civilian filth.

Knowing that her mission was in ruins and the chance of horrible punishment increasing by the second she had to do something to salvage her career and respect.

"Retreat!" she yelled to her surviving six Centurions, "pull back to the ship."

The robots did as they were told, making a retreat under heavy fire, but as the final one was passing Three she stopped it.

"Take him," she pointed towards the unconscious Helo.

The machine did as it was ordered and quickly followed in her wake. Three rushed through the thicket, trying to move as quickly as her legs could carry her.

Abandoning the few civilians and one very terrified _ in their wake.

Behind them the two Colonials and Sentinel gave chase, weapons firing. One lucky hit caught a Centurion in the back of its head, tearing the machine's metal spine to shreds and dropping it to the ground like a rock. Three vaulted over it, thanking God her model was built on the body of an athletic mid-aged woman.

In moments she was clearing the tree line and up the ramp of a grounded Heavy Raider. The second she was sure the final Centurion was onboard she gave the order.

"Get us the frak out of here!" she screamed as the pilot Centurion did as it was told.

Pressing up into the air the _Heavy Raider_ didn't even wait to break orbit before it began to spin up its FTL coils. By the time Anders, Sue-Shaun and Atikin reached the tree line they were just close enough to feel the rush of air as the ship flashed into a miniature star and was gone.

Little did they know this escape would have lost lasting effects on both the Cylons and the Colonials.


	9. Chapter Nine: Confrontational Relations

**Chapter Nine**: Confrontational Relations

**Rating**: PG-13

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Feedback**: Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywriter by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

* * *

_"Guests are reminded that Sky City forbids the use of weapons, teleportation and religion while onboard by order of the Alliance Council. Thank you and have a pleasant stay in Earth orbit."_

**Sky City, **_**General Warning to Boarding Visitors**_**, 4751 C.E.**

* * *

**Time**: _Third Month of Ichor, Twenty First Day, 3021 A.F. Hegemony Calendar / March 3rd, 6230 C.E. Terran Calendar Plus Twenty-Two Hours from Initial Cylon-Hegemony Contact._

**Location**: _Lexia_, _Sagittaron, Cyrannus Solar System_

* * *

On a clear mid-summer night they say you can see all eleven Colonies of Kobol from the Amber Plains of Lexia on _Sagittaron_. While this was astro-physically impossible given the landscape of the _Cyrannus_ solar system the expansive star-scape over the endless fields didn't stop many a hikers from being attracted for its spatial beauty.

Now however the ash filled night skies showed no stars, only the rising pillars of a thousand camp fires burning away in the night. The amber plains were gone, trampled under a thunderous amount of feet. Grass land wildlife had been displaced by the human incursion of desperation.

A remote nature and the fact the Cylon bombings were concentrated in the south-east had driven many people to seek shelter on the rolling prairie lands, creating a slow but sprawling tent city that snaked outward as the numbers of people grew. Occasionally a grounded freighter or passenger liner, even in one case a Colonial _Defender_, dotted the grounds. People clustered close to these makeshift structures, siphoning their power reserves for heat as the temperature continued to plummet or using them as makeshift living quarters for those lucky enough to barter their way aboard.

It was a bleak; unforgiving existence, a brutal one for those use to the comforts of the seasonally warm _Sagittaron_ cities.

But it was a safe one... the safest anywhere in all the Colonies.

This was because at the heart of what was quickly becoming named _New Sagittaron City_, sat a Space Guard warship.

More specially, the _Justice_-class missile frigate _Pitiless as the Sun_.

_Pitiless_ had been charged with protecting the massive influx of refugees fleeing to _Sagittarron_, the frigate quite literally landing in the center of the winding tents. From there she had become the defunct command center for the camp, her medical decks treating the sick or injured, her machine shops churning out parts, even her cargo bays once they were emptied of their emergency rations had become homes for dozens of families unlucky enough to not find a tent.

"_Incoming communication on official military channel nine_," inside the cavernous nerve center of the vessel a Colonial Colonel turned at the announcement. "_Routing it onto main speakers_."

Colonel Niles Larson was an older man, approaching the end of his final tour on desk duty and about to be bumped up to the prestigious post at a nearby veterans hospital to warm the beds. Hair the color of salt with an occasional dash of surviving black coated his head and worn eyes started into the fascinating holographic space of the Strategic Information Table. A three-dimensional overview of the solar system played out, a flashing icon on the outer limits of _Tauron's_ orbit indicating the communication's source.

"_Repeat this is Battlestar_ ... " his listened intensely as static fought over control of the airwaves from some panic stricken man, "_encountered heavy Cylon resistance ... sector ... assistance ... civilian fleet of more than seven vessels... this is Neptune ... are under heavy fire ... need help_!"

The transmission cut, obviously at the source as a burst of crackling noise and a yell were all that ended it.

A hair's breath later a woman flashed into life beside him, regarding the same image.

"_Transmission terminated_," the creation spoke in a commanding yet emotionless voice. "_Sensors detect eight Colonial transponders at transmission's last known position, thirteen Cylon signatures can also be confirmed. Processing inquiry for fleet assistance_," it took less then a second for the answer to come. "_Request denied_."

Silently Larson bowed his head, but behind him a enraged voice called out in contempt.

"You frakking machine!" Lieutenant Colonel Sears roared. "Those are our people out there! We have to send help."

The hologram didn't even turn its head, it just flashed out of reality facing the SIT and then back in staring into Sears' eyes barely a foot away.

"_Negative_," the computer countermanded, "_Battlestar Neptune is too far from Sagittaron according to the ship's location. Given the size and disposition of the Cylon fleet present it would require at least four Battlestars, twelve Patrolstars and twenty Defenders to mount a reinforcement regiment. At this proposition those forces would only be guaranteed a 30% chance of covering the Neptune fleet's retreat, let alone successfully repelling the Cylon strike force. With available ships we could mount a rescue operation of one Battlestar and three Defenders but that would require four hours of preparation to achieve. Likelihood that Neptune would be destroyed by that time is 100% likely_."

Sears opened his mouth to shout off another remark but instead a cold stare from Larson put him in his place.

"She right," he grumbled back at the younger officer, "they're too far out for us to do anything. Pray to the Lords of Kobol for their souls and that is all we can do."

"_Affirmation of pray is an intangible source of aid for those people_," the AI responded, "_but the only acceptable form we can provide at this moment_."

"We have to do something!" Sears continue to shout. "We need to stop creatures like her from bring about the extinction of the human race."

"_Lieutenant Colonel Sears_," Captain Deirdecc countermanded. "_I am a Captain in the Hegemony Space Guard and have served her member peoples for over four hundred cycles through eight hundred border skirmishes, two hundred territorial disputes, five campaigns and two intergalactic wars including the final assault on High Charity in 2,774 A.F., during the Covenant-Hegemony War. I have more combat and command experience then a thousand of you put together. Feel free to read my service record instead of interrupting me next time_."

"Just shut it both of you," Larson commanded, "show some respect for those that are about to lose their lives."

That was enough to allow silence to reign. Old bones cracked as he turned back, not wanting to watch as the icon labeled '_Battlestar Neptune_' flashed for a few more seconds before finally clicking off the screen.

"_Long-range sensors confirm a fusion reactor explosion at Neptune's former location_," the hologram reported once the blip faded. "_All hands abroad have been marked by Colonial terminology as killed in action. Repeat Neptune is KIA. Transmitting updated figures to appropriate authorities_."

It was another loss, something else to add to the tally boards the civilians were clustering around outside, trying to figure out which of their loved ones had perished this hour. Larson tried not to listen to the wailing screams of many a mother forever crippled as a son or daughter fell protecting another Colony.

"Fleet sitrep," he called out, the AI flashed again at his request and reappeared on the floor of the SIT as a miniature version of herself.

While it wasn't unheard of for an AI to attain the rank of commanding officer and take the position as leader of a Space Guard warship, it had been a diplomatically dicey to allow the Hegemony relief efforts in the _Cyrannus_ solar system to be lead by one. Certainly putting a artificial computer construct as the face of saving the Colonial nature after another mechanized intelligence attempted to exterminate them would have been a terrible decision. In the end it was decided that the _Data Exchange Index Descendant and Random Exponential Command Construct_ or Captain Deirdecc of the _Pitiless as the Sun_ would do more good then harm in the end. She was the top expert in the fleet for dealing with refugee situations, emergency relief operations and under the AI Civil Rights act of 2399 C.E., Fleet Command couldn't legally deny her from the position.

But it did make the fact that the largest refugee camp in the entire solar system was being watched over my a machine all the more ironic.

"_Eighty Battlestars are currently responding as operational, 70% report heavy damage and are requesting repairs, 50% report low ordinance, 20% low fuel reserves. Sixteen Space Guard warships are also on the board, Admiral Volaska's flagship is still reportedly engaged in combat near the gas giant Ragnar but radiation is still interfering with scans. Captain Lawbaaut and the Dynamic are no longer responding over Caprica and a thermionic explosion was detected twenty minutes ago. Possibility of reactor breach is 98.3% likely. Would you like the full statistical breakdown of causalities also, General_?"

"We're good for now Deirdrecc," in reality he didn't want to hear how many were alive and how many were dead again, the number had become weighted on the losses side a few hours ago.

One Space Guard vessel down... one _'destroyer'_ compared to the forty estimated _Battlestars_ destroyed. That were the conservative figures coming out from across the Colonies, a much higher survivor ratio compared to the decimated _Defender_ and _Patrolstar_ classes that had suffered a near total 80% loss rate.

At least those behemoths are finally pulling their weight, Larson thought, remember the Quorum's almost yearly debate over the massive warships whenever the military budget was discussed.

"_Warning! Enemy warship has jumped into Sagittaron orbit, western hemisphere_," klaxon's started ringing as Deirdrecc made the announcement. "_All hands to combat posts... prepare for inbound ordinances_."

The SIT quickly repositioned itself to display the spherical map of the Colony, labeled icons showing the numerous Colonial Viper and Space Guard fighter patrols in orbit along with the _Battlestars Centaur_ and _Eudore_.

Yesterday _Sagittaron _had two _Mercrucy_-class _Battlestars_, three _Novas_, eighteen defense platforms and over a thousand fighters at her disposal as just a _'peacetime'_ orbital picket. Now she had two heavily damaged _Hoods _hauled in from the remains of 32nd Fleet and eighty fighters to make up their main line of defense.

A labeled icon caught the Colonel's eyes, a dull gray blip slowly drifting over the Colony's southern pole labeled '_Battlestar Limentinus Wreckage_'." That was suppose to be his ship, where he was suppose to be leading the valiant Colonial military in any fleet action for the protection of this world and its people.

All because of a flight delay... if he had been off the ground at the time he should of he'd have landed with five minutes to spar before four _Basestars_ jumped in and systemically nuked the _Battlestar_ from all angles.

"_One Cylon Basestar confirmed_," Deidrecc confirmed.

"Target and destroy that ship!" Sears almost shrieked in terror.

The man was nothing but a burden, Larson almost muttered out loud. The only reason he was here was to keep his tired old ass from screwing up due to the joys of senility.

"_Lieutenant Colonel Sears_," Deidrecc again appeared in front of the man, "_I should remind you that I am the designated commanding officer of this frigate and hence forth have first, final and all say on its tactical usage. Targeted Cylon Basestar on the opposing side of the Sagittaron and is beyond the range of my weapons. Ordering fighter squadrons Beta-2 and Beta-1 to intercept. Colonial squadron Redwing is also joining_."

It must have been epic, three wings, almost forty-five _Skindiver_ fighters, thirty _Vipers_, rushing over the golden horizon of _Sagittarron_, arching towards a menacing _Basestar_ bearing down on the innocent world.

In the command center of the _Pitiless_ however it was all represented by tiny floating symbols, rotating grids and rotating shapes. A bit bland but from the intense amount of cluttered the battle must have been spectacular. _Vipers_ rolled and banked, the Hegemony fighters flanked the _Basestar_ and an incalculable number of _Raiders_ surged into the malay. Slowly approaching the battle the _Centaur_ pressed ahead, the _Eudore _remaining behind to cover her sister ship.

"_Centaur has targeting solution_," Deidrecc declared.

"Weapons free," was all Larson had to say as the Battlestar responded to his command and four kinetic rounds were fired.

The _Basestar_ graphic confirmed hits and returned fire, eight warheads separating and rushing out from her.

"Tell _Centaur_ to bank to starboard," Sears' voice thankfully wasn't as shrill this time, "all broadside batteries on dispersion!"

"_Unnecessary_," Deridrecc related, "_outbound ordinance is not targeted the Colonial Battlestar Centaur, its counterpart or any of the Vipers. Missile trajectories have triangulated for planet-side bombardment. Impacts with Golden River, Tallendown, Oswaldsclaw and New Icevale can be confirmed. Repositioning Beta-2 squadron for interception duty_."

A swarm of logos broke from the un-detailed fray and raced planet-ward, trying to catch up with the rapidly approaching nukes. Even with the excellent speed, powerful weapons and gravity accelerating their approach to the surface, the _Skindivers_ were just too late to make an difference.

The three-dimensional representation of _Sagittaron _flashed on four points over its eastern hemisphere... four cities gone.

"_Confirmation of nuclear detonations over Golden River, Tallendown, Oswaldsclaw and New Icevale," _the AI calculated. "_Estimated casualties between three and eight million, explosive yield are still being tabulated_."

"You could have done something," Sears shrieked, "The Space Guard is so high and mighty but you can't really save us! Can you?"

"Sears, stand down," Larson countered, "or I'll have you removed."

"That thing is as bad as the Cylons," the man argued. "At least we know where the Cylon's stand!"

"_Please discontinue your verbal assault_," Deridrecc blandly asserted. "_Enemy warship is opening fire again_."

"Order the _Centaur _to reposition itself for defensive flak fire," Larson organized.

"_Battlestar Centaur has acknowledge to ordinance interception duty_," the Guard computer acknowledged. "_Warning, two more Cylon Basestars have jumped into outer orbit. At current speed estimated time of arrival is three minutes. Destination will place them over the eastern hemisphere of Sagittaron_."

"Damn they're spreading us out," Larson cursed.

"If we redirect the _Eudore _and our remaining fighter reserves," Sears formulated, "we can take them down before they get close enough."

"No," Larson uttered, "its a trap. We commit both our fleet to offensive action and we won't be able to deal with anything else that comes along."

"_Astute observation, Colonel Larson_," Deridrecc indicated, "_but while Sears' plan is too ambitious, waiting for them to arrive will not change the final outcome. Combat will commence no matter what we do_."

"The _Centaur_ is committed," Sears uttered, "so our options are to wait for the _Basestars_ to reach the _Eudore _or option two, go offensive."

"_There is a third option_... "

* * *

"Fire!"

The guns went silent, the space around _Victory_ suddenly becoming eerily empty. That was quickly replaced by three paralleling bolts of plasma reaching forth into the heavens.

Normally a plasma beam would be enough to eviscerate a normal Cylon _Basestar_. Now with every bit of energy being focused at once the energy being released didn't tear through the enemy ship's armor, it removed all existence of it from the universe.

One ship, then another, the beam just rolled out and across the surrounding space, screaming like a demon in its death-throws. But in order to press so much power into one amazingly devastating weapon something had to be sacrificed... namely for the ultimate offense, their was no defense.

Point defense turrets went cold, missile tubes went silent and countermeasure launchers froze.

Victory raced out of the hole it had created in the Cylon fleet but not before several direct hits were scored. A barrage of nuclear warheads struck her flank, armor plating melting off under the intensive heat. _Raiders_ made kamikaze runs, the suicide dives cleaving off several turrets that had been unfortunate enough to fall within their sights. Even a _Heavy Raider_ rammed into the ship's bow at full power, the bloody explosion tearing a long gorge across _Victory's_ face.

The plan may have cost them but it had succeeded. Breaking from the combat the two fleets began to separate as they counted their losses. _Victory_ retreated back to the two Colonial _Battlestars_ who still held vigilant positions over _Ragnar_, the _Attackstars_ rolled into position as the remaining few _Basestars_ limped back behind them to regroup.

"Damage report!" Vonaka shouted, the smell of cooked wiring fresh in his nostrils.

"Aft and bow armor are down to sixty and forty-percent efficiency respectively," Alhex declared. "We lost eight point defense turrets and the missile tube five, ten and three."

"Causalities reported on all decks," Upsalon continued. "Eighteen confirmed deaths from hull break in sector seven."

"Our jump drive is offline," Contallia finished. " I can't even give you an estimate on repairs but engines are now at forty percent."

"Sir we have an incoming communication from one of the Colonial _Battlestars,"_ Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss proclaimed. "Identification coding names it fro_m Galactica."_

"Commander Adama, I believe," Volaska surmised. "Route it through."

"... _respond_... " The message was already finishing but thankfully a repeat of a deep baritone voice echoed back over the speakers, "_repeat this is Commander William Adama to unidentified vessel claiming to be from the Hegemony. Please authenticate you position and respond_... ."

"This is Admiral Vonaka Volaska of the Space Guard warship _Victory of Triangular_ to Colonial ship," the commanding officer responded. "We acknowledge you."

"_Admiral_," relief suddenly seemed to flood the disembodied voice, "_while I don't know where you're from or even if your real, the aid you have given us against the Cylons is greatly appreciated. But from our readings you are severely damaged and we are not far behind_."

"That is affirmative Commander," Vonaka confessed. "We have taken extensive hull damage and several of our weapon systems are no longer functional but we are not some toothless tiger. _Victory_ will continue to fight. You cover your civilian fleet and we will do what we can."

"_Sir_!" Alli shouted. "_I am detecting a new wave of contacts launching from the Basestars. Cylon unidentified are covering their approach_."

"Looks like we have another push from the enemy," Volaska ordered. "Deploy fighter squadrons to intercept. Adama I suggest you do the same!"

Onboard _Galactica_ the same scene was being played out as the newest Cylon advance had started.

"Hostels inbound!" Kelly yelled as the dradis screen suddenly exploded in a storm of new contacts. "Two hundred plus!"

"CAG," Adama ordered over his radio, "take 'em out!"

Out in space surrounding _Galactica_ the _Vipers_ responded to their Commander's orders. Three solid lines formed up, each backed up by a wing of _Raptors_ and a flying delta of Guard fighters. The two _Battlestars_ and Space Guard warship pulled forward slowly, arcing towards the approach Cylon aggressors.

"All players, _Galactica_," Starbuck announced over the radio. "Threat BR350, carom 211."

"_Raptors_, lean back as missile pickets," Apollo announced. "Everyone else weapons free."

Even if in the universe was large one giant empty space; the distance between the two opposing forces suddenly became a deadly mess of weapon's fire. Kinetic rounds speared out, piercing Colonial _Vipers_ as their pilots screamed. Fat red bullets spit Cylon _Raiders_ in two. Guard fighters rolled and fired, their own weaponry expounding hot energy into the cold of space. Wreckage flew in all directions and soon it became to confusing to count what had once been Cylon and what had been Colonial. It all just became another deadly projectile on the field.

"The _Vipers_ have stopped the main Cylon thrust," Dualla cried out, "but the reserves have broken through, sir.

"I want everything that can fly up there immediately," Adama directed. "Everybody that's ever held a stick, I want them up there now. Get 'em out! Put 'em up there!"

Colonel Tigh responded to the direction, snatching the radio from the receiver as he pressed the order. "... _All pilots, man your aircraft_... "

* * *

She was not a young woman anymore, she was about to pass senior citizen and enter the newest age bracket of 'older then time itself'. She was suppose to be back on _New Paris_, tending to a tiny cottage on the extreme outskirts of Liberty City, dotting on a staggering number of grandchildren and smothering all nine of her grown children. She was one hundred and ninety for Gaia's sake; retirement for her was half a century ago.

But as Morrestown dodged to the left, a path of bullets quickly racing after her, trying to catch up, she gave little thought to her age and more to the adrenaline pumping her legs underneath of her. She was not about to loss and be reduced to a fine pink mist all over the nearby trees.

An offending Centurion tried to counter her swift motions but the robotic brain wasn't thinking along an abstract pattern. Expecting her to follow through with her action, it was more then caught off guard when she sidestepped and drove her weapon home.

The plasma sword was the trademark weapon of the Psyonic Guild; a thin blade-like energy projector that created a foot and a half long saber that could cut easily through most armor and especially flesh.

Chrome armor melted under the extreme atomizing heat and quickly the machine found itself sliced in two, what remained of its torso reduced to two separate chunks.

Disengaging her weapon Latesha studied the creation closely, noting the crisp and angular body of the android as its glowing red eye slowly started to go dim.

"Ugly thing," Landroti mumbled as he came up besides her, shouldering his still smoking rifle. "But they sure can take a hit."

"Most definitely," Morrestown agreed. "Took your entire cache of grenades to eliminate them and we still had stragglers."

Sighing she snapped her weapon back into the belt of her trousers, cleverly hiding it under the hem of her shirt. Latesha reminded herself when she got back to the Dynamic she was going to reward the sword with a vigorous cleaning for all its hard work.

"We should-"

"... can anyone hear me," a voice crackled over their ear-pods, cutting of Mctaffo's statement, "we are pinned down and taking heavy fire!"

"That is Private Rruna!" Latesha recognized the desperate voice.

"Jant what is your situation?" Landroti shouted over his communicator.

"Fourteen contacts," the woman responded, "they are shelling out position and we can't out flank them. Low on ammo and taking heavy damage."

That was all they needed to here before they both were breaking off into a sprint.

* * *

"_Detecting thirty-one new contacts jumping into Colonial space_," Deirdecc announced. The SIT swiftly responded by expanding out to the edge of the Cyrannus system, highlighting several new blinking icons. "_IFF is friendly, corresponding to the 79SpinΔΩ under leadership of Captain Lora Yega'nh Vorn Relbbircsrebu XI onboard the Geometry of Shadows. Incoming communication from flagship_."

"_Captain Deidrecc_," an unseen voice resonated on the command deck, "_please state your condition_."

"_Declaring an emergency situation_," the AI launched off with immediately. "_Cylon Basestars are assaulting the Colonial homeworld of Sagittaron. Current Space Guard and Battlestar forces are improperly prepared to deal with the level of this incursion. Requesting additional assets to counter_."

"_The destroyers Pursuit and Credible Threat will be provided by the fleet, carrier Solstice is to support_," Captain Relbbircsrebu answered her plead of help. "_They are jumping now_."

"_Confirm arrival of two Anole-class Deep Stand-Off Attack Destroyers, HSS Pursuit of Unhappiness and HSS Credible Threat, accompanied by one Centuria-class Assault Carrier, HSS Solstice Carol," _three new contacts jumped into Sagittaron orbit, almost on top of the offending Cylons. "_Destroyers are engaging both Basestars, carrier moving to provide planetary cover_."

One blink, that's all Larson knew hinted at the passage of time before both of the Cylon _Basetar's_ faded from the holographic display, accompanied by the rapid disappearance of the angry red blips that represented their _Raiders_.

"_Confirming targets are now neutralized_," Deirdrecc stated. "_Space Guard fleet moving into orbital patrols_."

"_Good to hear, Captain_," Relbbircsrebu's voice was filled with admiration for the victory. "_Situation report on the Colonial worlds_?"

"_Rescue operations continue across the Colonies_," the computerize Captain announced. "_Admiral Volaska remains out of contact. Civilian space traffic is being redirect to Sagittarron, Caprica and Tauron. Colonel Niles Larson, top ranking Colonial military officer has been working with as the Colonial liaison to our relief missions_."

"Captain Relbbircsrebu," Larson added his voice to the discussion, "let me just say for the collective people's of this world... you're a sight for sore eyes."

"_Good to meet you, General_," Relbbircsrebu laughed a bit. "_The cavalry has arrived. Deployment of military forces around the Colonial worlds will begin immediately. Pursuit and Credible Threat are jumping out to begin cleanup operations. Solstice will remain. Kadesh will be replacing their removal_."

"_Confirmed. Pitiless will be in touch_," Deirdecc disconnected the link before reasserting the SIT to _Sagittaron_. "_Jump event detected. Anole-class Deep Stand-Off Attack Destroyers, Pursuit of Unhappiness and Credible Threat, have departed. Succeeding jump event detected. New contact is confirmed as one Somtaaw-class mothership_."

The holo-display redeployed itself, centering on the newest arrival. Shaped like a narrow half-moon the blue, white vessel coasted into orbit. As she slowed to a halt a tremendous launch bay door opened. Dozens of fighter squadrons rolled out, streaking out and into patrol patterns around the Colony. Among them several larger units detached, joining the mass of other contacts crowding into orbit.

However when the Battlestar Centaur roared past, did Larson and Sear's both realize how large the _Somtaaw_-class ship was. The blinking icon of a _Hood_-class _Battlestar, the Eudore,_ was barely a fly compared to the towering behemoth on the screen.

"What is that thing?" the younger of the Colonial pair breathed.

"_That is a Higarran mothership, the Pride of Kadesh_," Deirdecc was more then happy to provide. "_At a height of 5,500-meters high, 68-meters long, it is the most advance, versatile and complete vessel ever produced by the Higarran Kith. She is a mobile shipyard, home away from home and most notable symbol of Higarran power. She can support over five hundred fighters, numerous frigates or destroyers and when the need calls for it, eight battleships, all produced from her construction facilities. With her present we can begin immediate onsite repairs to the Centaur and Eudore. With her present in orbit, Sagittaron is now the most heavily protected Colony in this solar system_... "

* * *

The clouds were just creepy, pressing in an obscuring all light like some hellish storm of aqua blue. Occasionally a crack of lightning flashed out in the maelstrom, illuminating everything in startling detail before plunging it back into the haze.

Racetrack preferred the endless infinity of space, where you could see clearly and freely. As a Raptor pilot, she was supposed to be the eyes and ears for any number of Viper squadrons. To be blind was the ultimate disability she was most frighten of.

"Cryo-fans are cycling," Diana Seelix reported from her position, "main computer is linking up with the other jump computers now."

Nodding at the progress she turned and moved down the stairs into the heart of Ragnar Anchorage's nerve center, a large open pentagon atop the long spine of the station. Flanked on all sides by several wide windows the massive command room dwarfed that of _Galactica's_ by nearly eight times, numerous stations and consoles left unmanned and dusty for the better part of the decades.

"Contact the President and inform her we are beginning to spool up the jump drive," Edmondson ordered. "How much energy do we have left in those maneuvering thrusters?"

"Not a lot ma'am," Seelix explained. "Just enough to push us out of the upper atmosphere but these systems are old and outdated. Most of the Anchorage hasn't seen use since the last Cylon War. We could fly from here to _Picon_ without a hitch... or explode the moment we flip the switch."

"Then we'll have to make this count," Margaret argued.

* * *

Night on _Caprica_ was darker then it had ever been in recent history as thick clouds of ash still bellowed through the atmosphere. The stars and moons no longer filled the sky and the smothering shadows consumed the forest.

Sue-Shaun pressed her jacket tighter to her body, trying to warm herself by the camp fire. Days ago she had been working out under the warm and bright sun. Now only never ending fall out blotted out all light. Only the smothered glow of a dwindling star in the sky gave the only sign of the passing of day or night.

Pushing herself closer to the fire she sighed as a cold brush of wind managed to send a shiver up her spine.

The log she was using suddenly bowed under a new weight setting itself down and Sue-Shaun looked to her left to find the alien sitting beside her. Ripping open a green ration bar he handed her half while he dug his teeth into the piece of food.

For a long moment the two sat quiet, Rueisnom munching on his food bar and Sue-Shaun slowly nibbling to test if the other half of the bar was truly safe to eat.

"I hate planets," Rueisnom muttered as he took another bit out of his freeze-dried plankton bar, "The dirt, the unregulated temperatures, and the water, which I also hate... unless it comes in bottles. Water turns into snow and ice, which I also hate, like I pretty much hate every kind of weather. I hate the weather. Did I mention that?"

"You like to complain don't you?" Sue-Shaun smirked as she decided to push caution to the wind and take a real bit of the semi-edible rations bar.

"Give me a nice space walk with people shooting at me," Rueisnom smiled right back, "You have it easy here. Back on _Ryloth_ we don't have day or night and we definitely don't have dirt."

"How can your planet not have day or night?" Sue-Shaun questioned.

"Tidal locked," Rueisnom clarified, "One side of always faces towards the sun and the other to space. We Twi'leks live in the small habitable band between the two and even then most of our people hide in subterranean cities to protect ourselves from deadly heat storms the never-ending day creates. That's why Twi'lek Clans maintain some of the largest fleets of orbital space stations and mobile populations in the Hegemony."

"Wouldn't blame you for wanting to get off-world," Sue-Shaun wondered, "Never seeing the sunset would drive me mad."

"Almost did the opposite to me the first time I was off-world," Rueisnom paralleled, "visited _Kala'uuna _when I was a youngling, one of the four colonies our people settled before we got sick of planets. Seeing a red giant rise in the distance was the most unimaginable sight for me to see."

Sue-Shaun found it hard to believe that seeing a sun rising in the morning would be so alien to another person but then again she was sitting next to a red creature from outer space that had rescued her ass from a metallic robot only six hours ago.

Wherever he was from, Sue-Shaun was very grateful to this sudden angel of destiny with his long crimson head-tentacles, broad shoulder, defined chest... what was she was thinking!

She was ogling an alien creature.

Maybe it was hero-worship or the fact that the last time she had talked with her fiancé the call was ended when a nuke dropped on Karditsa. The idea of being alone was ever prevalent in her mind and though their small encampment had more then a dozen men, none had caught her eye.

This powerful, imposing and admiration he instilled was enough to earn the respect of any man and the flirtatious looks of any woman.

"So do you have anyone back on _Ryloth_?" Sue-Shaun asked, tempting the waters.

"I'm a Sentinel for the Hegemony first and foremost," Rueisnom boosted, "That leaves little time for dating, romance or mating."

"I had a fiancé in Karditsa," Sue-Shaun examined the last bit of her ration bar a little more intently then she needed. "He's probably dead right now."

"Don't say that," Rueisnom tried to offer, "I'm sure you will find your life-partner again."

"That's just the thing... I don't care if I do," Sue-Shaun admitted, "I guess near extinction makes you reexamine your life more thoroughly."

"Usually does," Rueisnom nodded back to her, holding Sue-Shaun's gaze for a little longer then necessary.

"So Sentinel, what do you think of our little corner of the universe?" she inquired.

Pushing one of his head tentacles over his shoulder Rueisnom gave a somewhat enticing look at the Colonial. Sue-Shaun couldn't help but blush a little at the attention she was getting.

Minutes seemed to bleed into one another as the black forest and gray night skies were forgotten, as all Sue-Shaun could do was stare into those deep yellow eyes.

"Sue-Shaun!" she cursed every Lord of Kobol in Anders' name for interrupting this one moment of bliss she was enjoying, "its your turn for a patrol. Sue-Shaun did you hear me?"

"I heard you Sam!" she yelled and as reluctantly as Sue-Shaun hated it she gathered up her rifle and started to get ready for her watch, "Got to get to work."

Turning Sue-Shaun made herself ready for another four-hour patrol but suddenly a hand appeared on her shoulder.

"How about I join you?" Rueisnom asked as he too slung his rifle over his shoulder.

Smiling Sue-Shaun nodded and the two started off on their next round of duty, hoping more then anything that the Cylons wouldn't ruin this night with a raid.

They started to rise, preparing for the coming night's work, when a chirping sound drew their consideration.

"What's that?" Sue-Shaun asked, as Rueisnom withdrew a small oval from his coat pocket.

"Communicator," the Twi'lek informed her, "it's picking up an incoming signal on an official Space Guard frequency."

"... _repeat this is the 79SpinΔΩ Fleet Command_," a distant voice squawked over the small speaker. "_HSS Crisis of Conscience transmitting to all Space Guard units active within the Colonial star-system. Change comm. band frequency 992-beta-0 and substantiate position._"

"This is Sentinel unit Omega 561 Beta," Rueisnom reciprocated over the communicator, "responding to Fleet Command. Substantiating position at 40°43'N 74°00'W. I have eleven civilian Colonials at my location, requesting transport back to metropolitan zone Caprica-0001."

"_Confirmed, Sentinel Omega 561 Beta_," the voice affirmed, "_two shuttles have been dispatched to your position. Can you also confirm the position of the Dynamic Year_?

"_Dynamic_ suffered a reactor breach," the Sentinel explained, "Rescue units in Caprica City confirm she flew over head on a possible crash landing on _Caprica's _surface. Unknown her location or if she survived..."

* * *

The _Heavy Raiders _banked and danced, using the inertia-less space to throw themselves through the overlapping fields of flak fire. One of their comrades was not so lucky, a trio of Vipers caught the craft as it leapt out of the shelling, demolishing the ship.

Another two sloped and pitched, only to be left as wrecked ruins drifting in a dozen different directions from a volley of flak exploding between them.

Apollo banked to starboard, narrowly avoiding a blast of concentrated cannon fire from one of the stock fighters, the firefly like stream of explosive rounds just barely missed his wing.

He quickly responded with a blast from his own guns, several streams of compact bullets slicing out and catching the craft in the face. Heavy armor saved her from an immediate death but the vessel was in its death spiral, losing control as its winding course sent it crashing down.

Some who the craft kept control just long enough to barrel roll through _Galactica's_ flak field and angle itself towards the _Battlestar_. It was a kamikaze run the ended a little less then spectacularly as the Heavy Raider ground into the landing deck of the port flight-pod, a trail of flaming metal behind it as it ground to a halt on the deck.

"Nice work Lee," Starbuck laughed beside him, her Viper pitching down as she came into linear alignment with him.

"I'm not sure why your hugging and kissing me," Apollo mumbled into his helmet radio, "we screwed up. We let one through."

"Then we make sure no more do," Kara countered. "Plenty of frakkers to go around!"

Snapping her fighter back violently Starbuck dove right back into the melee without a second thought, immediately racing after a Raider without a second thought.

Apollo had to admire her. She was foul, short tempered, easy to anger, but she was one hell of a Viper pilot.

Launching his fighter forward into the battle Lee had to smile at the humor she brought to a intense engagement.

A smile that unfortunately he would regret later.

Down on the port flight-pod the _Heavy Raider_ smoked, a tower of black ash bellowing out as what little atmosphere inside the craft burned away. It mattered little as slowly from the rubble a Centurion extracted itself... followed by another... and another.

* * *

Rruna fought to keep her head down as another mortar hit home, sending a wave of dirt and dust into the air as the terrible boom deafened her.

"They're trying to flank us!" Listip screamed over the roar of the exploding bombs. "The bombardment is only a distraction."

"Stand your ground," Jant ordered, "while I circle around. I'll snipe off the rest."

Nodding in agreement, Rruna broke from their small trio and vaulted towards the back of the building. Broken glass crunched under her boots and bits of soil, grime and smut were thrown into the air by her quick actions.

It took her more then two minutes to find a good vantage point and not without a moment to spare. Four Centurions rounded the edge of the structure, not even bothering to hug the building as they trudged through what use to be a playground.

Lining up the nearest robot in her sight she clicked one of her last rounds into the chamber and took aim. Five shots, four Centurions, should be easy and she'd have a spare.

A undiluted round of super condensed plasma ions sailed through the sky and punctually hit the targeted machine in the head. Not even confirming it's kill, Rruna tipped her rifle to the right by merely an inch and fired again, another Centurion exploding from its torso upward.

By now the two surviving automatons knew they were under attack, triangulated the weapons fire with their silicon brains and began to raise their weapons to return fire. Just with enough time for a third round to hit one of them in the crown and blast most of its circuitry across the ground.

Rruna pressed the trigger of her rifle one final time and waited for the bang of another round of fire... that never came.

"No... no... no!" she cursed her weapon.

It had jammed! The high-powered micro-reactor that powered her firearm sputtered and died, taking her last two shots with it.

She was in the open, without a weapon and the enemy staring her down. Slowly Jant looked up, staring at the android that seemed to regard for a second...

The Centurion opened fire, its bullets flying free and true. With her armor redlining, her energy sapped and weapon empty Jant knew this was it. She said her last rites, thanked the Holy Spirit of Tanub for the grace of being able to live and watched her death accelerate to her.

That is until the bullets stopped in mid-air.

"I try to save a life a day," someone mumbled and it took the soldier a second to realize it was that damned Seeker. "Usually it is my own but I think today we'll make an exception."

Turning to her left she saw the elderly woman giving the Centurion a intensive stare as she telekinetically held the bullets in place. Unable to understand or comprehend how such a thing was happening the Centurion paused for a second. Cylons obviously had never encountered a psychic, let along a trained telekinetic from the Psyonic Guilds.

Morrestown used that hesitation to strike, snatching the small plasma pistol from under her belt and opening fire. Hot sizzling energy struck the automaton in the face, searing off the metal and decapitating the android.

"Are you going to move?" the Seeker smirked, "I know how you soldiers hate to miss a battle."

Gripping back the urge to punch the woman who had just saved her life Rruna followed her back towards the main entrance where a dirty but alive Landroti awaited them.

"Teacher!" Ceesex shouted the moment he saw his mentor cross the door's threshold. "I was worried you wouldn't make it in time."

"Don't worry my student," Latesha calmed the child who was no lapping for her attention. "I would not leave you to have all the fun without me."

"What's the situation soldier?" Mctaffo barked.

"Four Centurions eliminated who were trying to out flank us sir," Jant confirmed, "five more destroyed previously. Possibly ten to fourteen remaining in the building across the street."

"We're low on ammo and as I can see your also out of explosives," Listip added. "So were stuck between a rock and hard place."

"First thing to remember in combat youngsters," Morrestown quipped, "is that you don't always need a gun or a grenade to make a nice big boom. Ceesex, I have a new lesson for you."

"She is mad," Rruna muttered. "We're in a war-zone and now she picks this moment for a class!"

"Have you ever played," Latesha looked down at the young Ceesex, "the ancient and logically intuitive game of Jenga?"

"Yes," the boy happily nodded, "it was a requirement in basic training to have mastery of such a sacred exercise."

Catching the look of confusion from the surrounding soldiers Morrestown was quick to explain what she was getting at.

"Jenga involves building a structure of fifty-four wooden blocks," she elaborated, "eighteen blocks high by three across. Students slowly removing one block from any story and then placing it on top. Sessions of Jenga can last days as players remove portions of the structure, weakening the base and increasing the tower's height. The game ends when one player removes the wrong block and compromises the tower's integrity, causing it to fall."

"And how does that apply to us?" Listip groaned.

"If you'd care to notice," the Seeker pointed at the enemy hide out, "most of the ground floor of that building has been destroyed while the upper portion remains intact."

What she was indicating was true. Some unknown explosion had gutted once an apartment building the, most of the lobby and ground level dwellings. Three large support beams and a trailing wall were all that remained to keep such a interact complex up.

"Removing the structure support will bring it down and crush the Centurions," Rruna understood.

"Brilliant!" Listip added before both Devoran realized who they were congratulating and reeled their tongues back in.

"Yeah," Mctaffo was the pragmatic, "but we have no explosives if you cared to remember."

"Well you have an ace up your sleeve," the juvenile Mon Calamari laughed as he shot a knowing eye up at Latesha. "One highly skilled telekinetic at your service."

"Then do your thing Seeker," Landroti nodded.

"I need to be closer," she pressed, "to cause the kind of damage we need to bring that building down."

"We'll provide cover fire," the CO accepted, "you do the rest."

* * *

"Sitrep?" Adama hollered.

"We've been boarded, sir," Kelly stated. "Don't know how many, where they are, where they're headed."

"Our standard ammo doesn't even make a dent," Dualla observed. "Explosive rounds are the only way to take 'em down."

"Looks like they split into two forces," Kelly announced. "One moving forward-"

"... and one moving aft," Tigh finished.

"Yes, sir," a puzzled Kelly responded.

"I've seen this before," Saul responded, outlying several points on a nearby schematic of _Galactica_. "These are their objectives."

"Secondary damage control and auxiliary fire control," Kelly interrogated, "sir?"

"If they're successful," Adama grumbled, "they will override their decompression safeties and vent us all into space. And once we're all dead, they'll turn the ship's guns on the fleet and force _Theia_ to take us out or be destroyed herself."

"Frak," Kelly mumbled under his breath.

"Route soldiers to protection those locations," Adama directed, "evacuate personnel along all direct route to secondary damage control and auxiliary fire control. Seal off bulkheads along all forward bearing frames. Lets hope that will at least slow them down."

"_Galactica actual, Theia actual_," Dolla's voice crackled over the out of date loud speakers over the command pair, "_Let us take some of this work off your hands. Pull back to the Anchorage, deal with your boarders and start jumping the civilians. We'll take care of the rest_."

"Understood _Theia_," Adama confirmed.

Hanging up the communication line Dolla turned to regard his CIC officers.

"All right, fire up that main battery!"

"They're coming about," Gaeta surmised with just one glance at the dradis column, "Maneuvering to bracket us.

"Steady as she goes," Forman ordered. "Take us right into the center."

"Won't last long in there," Felix noticed.

The commander could only agree, "No, we won't. Tell _Galactica_ to start bringing the civilians out!"

The forward fire of a fully armed _Battlestar_ was crippling to a enemy ship caught unprepared. Two of the closest enemy ships, an _Attackstar_ and one of the more generic _Basestar,_ broke apart the moment they realized they had left themselves completely open.

Pushing deeper into the remaining ships the _Theia_ was getting too deep into the fight. Collateral damage became a threat, especially when six shells of depleted uranium slammed head long into the central pylon of the closest Cylon warships, sending debris in all directions.

Already damaged from three missiles from the _Victory's_ full offensive payload launch the Basestar exploded under the impacting fire of _Theia's_ main batteries, sending the arms of the mighty ship spiraling out like a top spiraling out of control.

And one went flying right into already flaming Colonial ship. Spinning inward the flaming spear crashed right into the alligator head of the ship, wracking down its surface, skinning the entire spine of the warship as she peeled the armor off.

Almost six decks deep, the gouge it left sent resounding explosions as the atmosphere ignited during its rapid escape into the surrounding space.

"Damage report!" Dolla yelled as he held himself tight on the nearby navigation table.

"Fires throughout everything forward of frame 233, several decks deep," Gaeta called out as he was handed further reports. "We're venting atmosphere and engines are not responding. Starboard flight-pod is a flame and fire suppression systems aren't working."

"Without main engines the planet's gravity is going to start to take effect," Forman surmised.

"Already is," Gaeta shock his head. "We're starting to fall into the atmosphere and without engines we can't pull out."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what goes up must come down. "How long to repair," Dolla asked.

"Engineering is exposed to space," Gaeta explained grimly "there's no one to help us."

"Set main batteries to auto fire cycle-B. Lock guns to flank," Dolla ordered to the surrounding CIC crew before switching to ship wide intercoms. "This is the Commander. Abandon ship, abandon ship. All hands, abandon ship. Report to evac _Raptors_ and head for _Galactica_. Good work, and I'll see you on the other side."

"Okay, all right, people, let's move!" Gaeta ordered as he pushed a fallen officer to his feet, "Out! Let's go! You too, Commander."

The older man nodded as he too began to follow the stream of people rushing out of the three hatches that spiraled from the command center.

But then something caught him.

Every sound in the entire CIC seemed to go quiet for a brief second, bringing a great pause as both the Commander and his crew stopped in a perplexed manner. Never before had Dolla ever heard the CIC this quiet in his entire time onboard _Theia_. It was unnerving.

The explosion that filled that void of silence made Dolla wish for the quiet air of before, even as the force of pressurized air that lifted him off his feet and slammed him across the room. The wave of fire that followed it cooked everything in its path.

Several seconds later the cavernous room was silent again, only the cracking of burning stations, groans of dying people and the crash of a falling support beam was all that could be heard.

Coughing Forman tried to roll over onto his side but found his body not responding to his will. Whatever was wrong he couldn't see it with his eyes as his vision started to blur from the blood and sweat spilling into them.

It was becoming harder to breath and no matter how much he yelled only a rasped whine escaped his lips.

_I'm dying._

The realization came sudden. First he was thinking of his sister and nephews back on _Caprica_ and how he was going to miss little Joey's birthday next week. Then he started to wonder why he hadn't spent more time with them. Finally it just clicked into place.

He was going to die and now he was going to miss all the good times. How much he was going to miss teaching Jenny's boys how to fish, to ride a bike or how to talk to girls. He had no children of his own so he replaced the void of his sisters estranged ex.

But what to do now that he was dying. Thinking of family, friends, people long passed. In the end it came down to one thing and one thing only.

_I wished I frakked that girl on Picon._

And that was the final thought of Commander Forman Dolla of the _Battlestar Theia_ as he coughed a final time and went silent forever.

* * *

A sphere of super-charged ions raced just a few centimeters from her left ear, the hot energy stinging her skin. Jant was really pressing her luck but the rapid cover-fire was enough.

The Centurions were pinned down; any attempt to return fire was futile as two smoking metallic bodies could hint at.

Sliding to a stop behind the burned out hulk of a land vehicle Latesha quickly took in her surroundings, the scorched grass, cracked asphalt, rubble as far as she could see.

"This is Seeker," she screamed over her communicator, "in position!"

"Roger," Mctaffo confirmed.

The cover-fire spread outward, catching the windows of the apartment building to keep the Centurion's distracted.

She needed only a few moments of concentration, of dedicated thought in order to pull this off.

Telekinetic were a rarity even in an organization as far spanning as the Psyonic Guild and its eighty billion members. Instead you saw two different sides of the equation more often, Pushers and Pullers. Just like a Seeker found things, an Oracle predicted the future and Pathers read thoughts; Pushers used telekinetic pulses to move objects away and Pullers towards them.

Reaching out with her thoughts she could envision the support beams, tall towers looming over her. It wasn't so much conscious thought, but trying to exert your will over something. Most would scoff at the idea but the best way a telekinetic could describe the process was wishing for the object of their attention to do, as they wanted.

Cracking, that's what she first heard as the concert started to give way.

That is until the Centurions finally found an opening and started to retaliate. Latesha had just enough time to duck deeper behind her hideaway.

"I need more cover fire!" she shouted into her comm.

"We can't give... " Mctaffo's voice crackled over the speaker, "hey what's he... no stop-"

Before Latesha could ask she sighted the reason for the sudden interruption to the transmission.

Racing across the ground faster then she ever thought possible Ceesex sprinted. With his plasma-sword drawn he seemed to be using the ionized blade as a beacon to catch the Centurion's attention, the glowing blue blade swing over his head.

"I taught him too well," Morrestown muttered.

Ceesex was headstrong, emotional and incredibly stubborn to anyone he didn't consider his direct superior. It was probably a serious character flaw that would keep him from rising up the rank some day to become among the exalted Elites of the Guilds. And it was probably also those same traits that her teachers used to describe her when she was his age.

Gunfire quickly switched directions to the most obvious target, four trails of bullets impacted with the dirt right behind the running aquatic.

Not wasting anytime on the distraction Latesha focused again. Already compromised from her previous attempt the structure began to groan and bow under her concentration.

"Seeker they are getting awfully close to the kid," Listip's voice echoed in her comm. as she forced every bit of strength she had into her will power.

Dust fell, beams creaked and several portions of the building separated but the structure refused to give. Yet she wasn't about to be deterred from her objective.

More power, strength and skill went into her actions and she promised the revered Gaia if she just granted this one divine request she would retire the moment this mission was over.

Her holy spirit must have been listening because abruptly one of the support beams collapsed, then another.

With one left the building was wobbling on its last leg and finally after a valiant fight it gave up, taking itself and the Centurions contained inside to its demise as it collapsed into a hep of stone and debris.

"I haven't had this much excitement since my first marriage," Latesha laughed as the shock-wave of dust rolled over her as a victory wash, "or sixth!"

The sound of running footsteps behind her caught her ears as the soldiers quickly dismounted from their makeshift bunker and one very guilty looking student dawdled behind them.

"Are all psychics so reckless?" Listip commented as the Mon Calamari sheathed his sword.

Morrestown gave her student an appraising look, the boy quickly sank his head a little low waiting for a reprimand.

"Just the good ones," Latesha ultimately confessed, at which Ceesex's face instantly lit up.

"Contact _Dynamic_," Mctaffo ordered to his subordinated. "Tell them we are moving the civilians onto the relief bases in Caprica City."

Nodding Jant withdrew her communicator and began to relay their status.

"This is search and rescue team 294 to _Dynamic_," she detailed as she pressed the ear-pod against her head. "Operations in metropolitan zone _Caprica_-9910 are complete, removing civilian refugee to metropolitan zone _Caprica_-0001. _Dynamic _please respond."

After several long minutes of no response they started to worry.

"Is the communicator damage?" Latesha asked.

"No," Rruna dispelled. "The signal is going through but its not matching a lock with the _Dynamic's_ main computer. Either _Dynamic_ is no longer in orbit or something is seriously wrong... "

* * *

"Sensor contact!" someone shouted across the heated and damaged bridge.

"I have four contacts on the board," Lieutenant Moneti announced as a wing of new icons appeared on the SIT. "IFF is coming in as friendly."

"_Confirming_," Alli confirmed as she appeared in life-sized form on the SIT to stare down on the new icons like a doctor studying a patient. "_It's our reinforcements from Magellanic Stellar Command. Thirty-seven ships under command of Captain Relbbircsrebu on the Geometry of Shadows. I have the flagship along with the Summary Judgment, Divided Loyalties and the Voices of Authority in our immediate airspace_."

"Captain Relbbircsrebu is on the comm. requesting orders," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss proclaimed from her barely functioning communication station.

"Tell him to come in all guns blazing," Vonaka roared, "target Cylons with extreme prejudice."

And they did just that.

The _Geometry of Shadows_ and the _Voices of Authority_ were both _Reverence_-class heavy cruisers, behemoths ranking at over twice the length of a normal ship of the class. This was due to the heavy armor and firepower the _Reverence_ carried, almost three times that of _Victory's_ load out.

While the _Victory_ was designed for long term independent operation outside the normal supply depots and behind enemy lines, this type was meant for one thing, taking a beating long enough to return the favor. Usually they were commanded by Guard Admirals like Vonaka, the lack of heavy firepower ships back in the core galaxies however meant that any colonial operations like those going on in the Magellanic Cloud were only assigned ships like the _Authority_ and _Shadow_ for high value and strategic worth targets. The 95SpineαǼ had no high value targets in their sector, until the Colonies discovery.

Six beams of concentrated plasma sliced outward from starboard and port cannons on either side of the _Shadow_, followed moments later as the _Authority_ followed in fashion. While a normal _Basestar_ would be like a flaming knife through butter to the plasma weaponry of the _Victory_, the unyielding torrent the two heavy cruisers threw out obliterated the two Cylon warships in less then a second.

The Cylons had little time to recover as the _Summary Judgment_ vaulted forwards. Generally a small ships used for light escort and scouting the _Normandy_-class frigate was too petite to carry fighters or high yield weaponry but they did haul a fully array of missiles and an extensive point defense system for screening weapons fire for larger ships. They also were one of the fastest ships of their mass size, able to cover the distance much quicker then most dedicated capital ships. This made vessels of the _Judgment's_ design the initial choice for first response or hit and run operations.

Racing in under the bottom of one the undamaged _Basestars_ she rotated on her port side and opened up with more then twenty missile tubes into the lower haft of the warship. Explosions ripped through geometric ship, the most heavily armored section of her underside did little to protect the hundreds of Cylons that suddenly found themselves being sucked out into space. In a few hours the download chambers on the Resurrection Ship would find themselves with many screaming victims crying of how cold they were.

The _Divided Loyalties_ was the last warship, though she took that designation lightly. The _Loyalties_ was a devoted _Regent-_class assault carrier, with significantly larger docking and launch bays meant for deployment over combat. The _Loyalties_ had one main bay that could hold a vessel the size of the _Judgment_ comfortably with numerous secondary holds to carry support ships and backup fighters. Due to her massive bulk, they were generally only used for breaking enemy blockades to deploy fighters and ground troop's en mass.

Right now the _Loyalties_ took three direct hits from nuke carrying _Raiders_ as she dislodged all three hundred _Skybolts_ she held. Squads of heavily armed fighters slammed into the enemy, slicing through them with plasma fire and missiles.

The suddenly arrival of reinforcements gave the _Victory_ the time she needed to reestablish her lines.

"We have a break their offensive units," Moneti yelled as two of the _Basestars_ surrounding her disappeared under fire while a third bombarding the Colonial warships exploded.

"Lets not waste it!" Vonaka yelled before the Cylons could redeploy. "All weapons fire at will... Contallia take us in full thrust!"

"Happy to so," Contallia smiled as he pushed the engines to full and began to move the warship out of the intense nuclear fire.

* * *

The overhead lights flickered, for a facility as large and open as the flight-deck, power outage sent a wave of darkness rolling forward. It only held for a second before auxiliary power sprung in to fill the loss, lower lighting rushing to push the shadows back.

"What's going on with the lights?" Cally asked.

With the fight going on outside most of the Vipers and Raptors out in combat, little was left for the deckhands of their likes. Most had been shipped out with damage control teams, rushed off to fill other posts left open from their previous status as a future museum ship.

"I'm not sure," Chief Tyrol reacted, wiping the grease from his fingers as he stopped to look up.

"Power's out, sir," Specialist Socinus accounted, the deck-hand racing up to his superior. "I think it's ship-wide. Sound-powered phone's the only thing working. Tried to get through to damage control, but the lines are jammed."

"Okay," the Chief nodded, "get the birds tied down, and make the ordinance safe. I'll head up to combat, see what the hell's going on."

He turned to make his leave, the metal plating spinning under the ball of his feet. But it was during that brief second; as the world rounded on itself... he heard the gun shots.

Cally screamed, a blood curdling sound as a bullet caught the girl in the shoulder. A hair's breath behind her Socinus ran for his life, ducking his head as another round of bullets spilled into the air.

"Holy, frak!" someone shrieked over the clatter and it took Tyrol a moment to recognize it as Specialist Warren Tarn. "Frak!"

People ran, tools dropped in a clattering mess, everything stopped and only survival mattered as three Centurions overtook the deck.

"Frak! Get outta of here!" Tyrol yelled, ushering on his crew. "Come on!"

"... _Chief_... "

The voice was a gurgling, a straining squawk of its prior.

"Cally!" Galen shouted.

The girl was still alive, straining to pull herself across the floor as a stream of crimson blood trailed behind her. Not too distant the Centurion began to move in for the kill.

Self-preservation disappeared; survival of the fastest faded and his own personal well-being became a second thought.

Tyrol threw himself across the flight-deck, racing to snatch the young girl back from the jaw's of death. But as his fingers closed around the collar of Cally's work suit a metallic hand slapped him back.

He hit the deck hard, his vision going white for a second as the clanking of approaching metal feet echoed in his head along with his brain.

As he finally managed to blink back his eyesight he found himself staring up and into the arm cannon of a towering Centurion, the red rolling eye staring down at him as the weapon clicked into place.

* * *

"Lieutenant Wallace reports his unit destroyed two centurions at this junction," Kelly marked the position on the ship schematic for the Commander and Colonel. "They trapped a third in the ship's laundry. It can't walk, but it's still shooting."

"At least we've contained the threat to auxiliary fire control," Tigh cursed.

"Trust me," Adama asserted. "They're still heading for the aft damage control."

"Sir," Dualla called over as she pressed her hand to the headset perched atop her cranium. "Sergeant Hadrian reports her units had to halt their advance on deck ten at frame sixty-nine. Sounds cut through the hull ahead of her and the compartments are open to space."

"Smart move," Kelly smirked. "Keeps us from chasin' 'em."

"We still have three Cylon's unaccounted for," Tigh hit back in grim deliverance. "Plus there is nothing between the last two Centurions and the decompression safeties. If you know any prayers, now's the time."

"Sir I have incoming communication from _Theia_," Dualla shouted, "she's declaring a state of emergency. I'm getting an abandon ship distress signal."

"Get me _Theia_ actual immediately," Adama bellowed.

"_Theia_ actual, _Theia_ actual, this is _Galactica_ request your sit-rep," the petty officer's voice sounded over the loudspeakers. " _Theia_ actual, _Theia_ actual, this is _Galactica_ request sit-rep. Please respond... sir I'm not getting anything."

"She's drifting," Tigh deduced as he studied the above head dradis screens, "bleeding a hell of a lot of atmosphere. No engines, no crew, she'll be grabbed by the gas giant and pulled right to her death."

"We're down to one _Battlestar_ then," Adama inferred. "Keep our ventral guns to the Cylons, tell the civilians to start coming out of the storm."

* * *

Helo ran, as fast as his legs could carry him over the wet branches and years of dead leaves. The rain came down hard, partially blinding him as he tried to dodge the trees. Behind him two Centurions rushed after him, the clanking of their hinges growing ever louder no matter how fast Helo could move.

Waking up an hour ago he had almost immediately launched into the race, trying to keep out of range of the Centurion's handguns.

Ducking behind a fallen piece of spent stumps Helo pressed himself into the bark surface so hard he felt he was going to merge with it. Wishing nothing more to be invisible Helo, trying to keep as quiet as possible as the Centurions trudged passed his hiding spot.

So intent on his survival Helo almost missed that he wasn't alone.

Catching a glimpse out of the corner of his eye he almost didn't believe it until he saw it with his own eyes and even then still wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him.

She was almost ethereal, a blonde woman standing in a stark white leather raincoat. Her hair was wet from the downpour and her face blank of all emotion as she stared at him.

He couldn't tear himself away from locking eyes with her and feeling a pang of longing to be closer to her. Helo hadn't seen another living person the entire time he was in his dash through the woods, to have someone to be with, the idea was something that was overwhelming to the very core of his being.

But something also told him to stay away.

She wasn't right and the same feeling that urged him to get closer was also telling him to run.

Instinct took over and survival was what he needed right now.

Turning to go he was almost half way into a rush to safety when a steel chassis entered his view and Helo could only stare upward into the red eye of Centurion that stood before him.

Survival just seemed to evaporate into nothing as death seemed all the more closer.

* * *

The gun barrel pointed downward, its curvature edges gleaming in the overhead lights as the Centurion wielding it unwavering started down at him.

Galen felt his life begin to tick away, memories of his life dancing through his mind as he recalled any number of things he regretted or wished he had done.

Terror gave way to realization that this was the end, that everything had an end and this was his finish.

Yet suddenly the Centurion seemed to space, the normally wavering stance it held went ridge and for a second it's moving red optical plat paused, seeming to focus directly onto him.

As swiftly as the machine had knocked him down, it retracted its arm cannon and seemed to stagger back, a bit confused and unsure of it's actions. Finally it settled a standing retreat, its two comrades following suit as they hastily departed the deck.

Tyrol was confused; one moment he was preparing his last rights and now an instant later the same machine spent less then thirty seconds closely observing him before taking a abrupt departure.

Something was different and wrong. Maybe the Lords of Kobol had shined down on him for once... but strange Galen thought something else, far more sinister was behind this.

Up in _Galactica's_ CIC the unfathomable was taking place.

"Sir?" a mystified Aaron Kelly announced. "The Cylon strike force has just turned back to their ships. _Baseships_ jump drives are spinning up."

"They're pulling out?" Tigh questioned.

On the dradis screens the _Raiders_ broke without warning, racing back to their awaiting _Basestars_. The moment the icons faded from the display terminal the combatants disappeared, the entire battle ending in less then a minute. Everything that had happened had left the CIC officers discombobulated.

"We're going to do the same damn thing before they change their mind," Adama instructed. "Dualla, have our fighters covered our withdrawal."

"Yes sir," the communication specialist confirmed. "All fighters, all fighters assume rear cover formation."

"They had us. Game over," Tigh insisted. "Why the hell did they let us go?"

"Maybe something's changed," Kelly expressed. "But what?"

"Dradis contacts," Dualla shouted as the dradis screen began to light up again. "I'm receiving Colonial transponders!"

"Authenticate!" Adama thundered.

"They are real," she validated. "The _Battlestars_ _Concordia_, _Rycon_ and... "

"Spit it out, specialist!" Colonel Tigh yelled.

"The _Warriorstar Tartarus_," she finally announced, "Commander Anatas responding."

"That's impossible," a stunned Colonel Tigh responded. "The entire _Warriorstar_ fleet was destroyed with the _Gemenon Fleet Hub_."

"Get me _Tartarus_ actual!" Adama ordered, "route it to speakers."

"... _Repeat this is Warriorstar Tartarus to Battlestar Galactica_," a voice far to young to be a season Commander broke the reigning silence in the CIC. "_Adama is that you_?"

"Commander Anatas," Adama acknowledge, "it's a pleasure to hear your voice."

"_We've received a communication in the clear just five minutes of a civilian fleet out here under attack_," the obviously astonished man blathered. "_We had no idea there would be two Battlestars out here_."

"The surprise goes to the both of us," Adama admitted. "We have several thousand civilians orbiting the _Anchorage_ and _Theia_ is crippled. We are launching rescue _Raptors_, I suggest you do the same."

"_Confirmed Galactica_," Anatas accepted, "_deploying rescue Raptors from the Concordia and Rycon. I owe you a shot of ambrosia after this Commander_."

The line severed and for the first tim ein a long while the entire CIC exhaled a long held breath.

"Thank Gods they got here when they did," Tigh murmured.

"The Cylons jumped out before our reinforcements got here," his commanding officer said grimly. "If they didn't even know they were going to be here until a few minutes ago, how did the Cylons?"

"You think some else made them leave?" Tigh took the implication with a sour look.

"I don't know," Adama professed, "but in the meantime-"

"Sir," the sound of Dualla's voice interrupted them. "_Theia_ just hit _Ragnar's_ atmosphere!"


	10. Chapter Ten: Further to the Start

**Chapter Ten**: Further to the Start

**Rating**: PG-13

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Feedback**: Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywriter by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

* * *

_Almost every species in the universe has an irrational fear of the dark. But they're wrong, because it's not irrational._

**Private Agatha Evangelista, Final Words before the Battle of Neptune, Schi'jonkio War**

* * *

**Time**: _Third Month of Ichor, Twenty First Day, 3021 A.F. Hegemony Calendar / March 3rd, 6230 C.E. Terran Calendar Plus Sixteen Hours from Initial Cylon-Hegemony Contact._

**Location**: _Ragnar, Outer Cyrannus Solar System_

* * *

_Theia_ was in trouble. The massive craft was lying on its side as fires burned off into the cold space around her. She was losing a dangerous amount of atmosphere to keep the flames burning in the airless void.

Coming in across her bow a single _Skybolt_ survey the gut wrenching damage that riddled the ship.

"_Victory, this is Skin-Diver One-Three-Nine, Big Blue_," the pilot reported. "_I suggest you launch Biosquads to the damaged Colonial warship. She's crippled but I can see lifeboats launching_."

"Understood, Big Blue," Ensign Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss acknowledged. "Admiral our fighters are reporting the _Battlestars_ identified as _Theia_ is down and out. Their recommending immediate assistance."

"Good timing because the remaining _Basestars_ have jumped out," Alhex added. "Communications from across the system report similar."

"Finally something is looking up for us," the Admiral breathed a sigh of relief. "Prep rescue units and medical teams. Be ready to bring on survivors."

"_Biosquads One and Two are away in four minutes_," Alli called out, "_rescue shuttles are also being deployed_."

"Good," Upsalon accepted, "is the _Hope_ inbound?"

"They found survivors on a space station near the inner solar system," Ensign Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss shook her head, "ETA one hour or more. But we have the medical ship _Kyoto St. Pierre_ incoming at sixteen minutes."

"Dammit," Volaska cursed. "The _Battlestar_ doesn't have that much time. Fire up the AG-field and prepare for emergency docking. Upsalon, Moneti! I want you to lead the teams when we dock. Get as many people off as you can but don't risk yourselves."

Both men nodded as their backup counterparts relieved them from the SIT. They were both trained in battlefield tactics and had served as ground soldiers before being promoted to ship based duty. Volaska had faith that with them in charge nothing could go wrong.

Maybe nothing serious could go wrong.

* * *

The floor took another pitch, Cavil had to hang onto his station as the _Basestar_ took a dangerous hit. An unknown Six wasn't too lucky as she hit the floor hard and with a snap, going limp and staying that way forever.

"Return fire!" he shouted over the chaos as his hands immersed themselves within nearest liquid datastream. Then something changed. "What the in God's name?"

"What happened?" Natalie shrieked as she snapped back her fingers from the datastream like she had just been burned.

"Unknown," Eight asserted. "The Hybrid is issuing commands without input."

"Impossible!" Cavil crocked.

"_Raiders_ are breaking off their attack!" Three added. "Other ships report the same."

"How is this happening?" Natalie was stunned, "the Hybrid can't issue commands without our command."

"FTL drive is spooling up," Eight announced. "We're jumping!"

The entire room became a washed with light and then they were gone.

Calvin had to fight to reorient himself, willing back a rush of bile as the Basestar reentered normal space.

"I want an explanation!" he yelled, "NOW!"

A number of different models rushed to find something but in the end it was for naught.

"The Hybrid is clearly telling us something," Natalie finally understood.

"The Hybrid is always telling us something," Cavil snickered. "They're supposed to maintain operations on each ship, not command them!"

"But when we built the Hybrids there was one macro-command we couldn't overwrite," Natalie explained. "They will not harm the Final Five."

"The _Raiders_ and Centurions refuse to fight," Two chimed in, "because they must sense the Final Five were with the Colonials."

"What they must look like?" Three commented.

"This is all highly unlikely," Four scoffed.

"We should be finding the real reason for this anomaly" Five sneered, "not playing with our wildest fantasies."

"They could've... " Eight stammered, "could've been captured or in hiding-"

"No, stop!" Cavil yelled. "Stop right now. Turn around, go and take a cleansing walk, and I am gonna try and forget what I just heard."

"The Final Five, Cavil, they're near," Natalie gleamed. "This is far too important... "

"What their eyes must have seen," Two remarked.

"That's enough!" Cavil shrieked before rounding on the Six who had started the entire discussion. "Don't you realize what you're doing? That's forbidden. There's a reason the original programmers clearly felt that it's a mistake for us to contact the Final Five!"

"Something has changed," Natalie fought, "we have to change with it."

"Exceeding our programming is forbidden," Cavil shouted. "You're nothing but... I think it's best if you leave now."

Natalie looked about her comrades, the infuriating look of Cavil staring down at her as the other Cylons in the room reluctantly reeled themselves back in. When One spoke, everyone had to listen and rarely did they speak out of turn when he made his decision. They may have been a democracy but Cavil's thought held the most weight and power to sway the others.

"Leave!" Cavil roared and giving him a death glare Natalie slowly retreated.

Down the halls of the _Basestar_ she stomped, passed dozens of women were her face, a assorted number of her brothers and sisters in varying forms and Centurions standing at attention as she walked pass.

She kept her best composure until she reached her quarters... and then Natalie tore into her room, the spartan furniture stood little chance as it was thrown against the walls, snapped and splintered.

When all the anger was gone and she could only breath to keep herself going did she finally notice she wasn't alone.

"Natalie," a platinum blonde Six slowly approached her from behind, "What are we going to do."

"I think," she sighed, "we have a problem, Sonja."

* * *

"We've gotten the go ahead," Margaret announced to the small number of officers in the control pit. "Fire up the thrusters."

Most of these officers were leftovers, a few volunteers who had been veterans who served on her during the last war, scavenged from the civilian ships they had been forced to land in order to fuel and crew this massive crate.

"Full power to fusion reactor three, one, four," Seelix rattled off, "reactor two is not responding."

"We'll go without it," Racetrack cursed the loss of a fourth of their power but pressed on. "Navigation begin plotting a course out of the storm."

"Aye, sir," Cedric Little, a former flight control officer from the _Pandora Star_, reported. "Taking us up and out of the storm."

The ground rumbled, metal groaned as stresses it hadn't felt in years raced through its structure. Out in the storm four pairs of cylinder like thrusters burst to life along the station's southern pole, sending a visible vibration up the long tube of the facility, out into her three stacked rings and up into the bulbous head that topped the structure.

"She's forcing a lot of G's," Seelix groaned as a few warning lights sprung up on her station, "hull is bulking but holding."

"Damage control teams are en-route," Gretchen Sellers called out, a former communication specialist from the _Olympic Carrier_. "The President is wanting a status report on our condition."

"Tell we flying," Margaret commented, until the station hit one of the many pressure pockets that hide in the atmosphere and the turbulence became worse. "Barely."

Out of the storm the mighty construct rose, the spinning rings cutting through the clouds as the flotilla of ships around her ascending with her. Atmospheric shuttles, freighters, garbage scowls, luxury liners, mining ships, even a sewage hauler flew in formation, all heading in the same direction, to open space.

"Civilian ships are clearing the storm," Dualla pronounced into the tense air of Galactica's CIC.

"_Commander Adama_," the voice of Anatas' voice, "_we have Raptors at the gathering point reporting all clear_."

"Understood _Tartarus_," Adama confirmed. "Dualla tell the civilians to start jumping."

"_Cloud_ _Eleven_, _Sargon_, _Botanical_ _Cruiser_ and _Queen Jane_ are away," Dualla reported, "fifteen ships jumped, thirty report trouble with their FTL's along with _Colonial_ _One_."

"Tell them there's no rush," Adama was uncomplaining at the rush. This place had been a war-zone only minutes ago.

"Damn civilians," Tigh muttered, "every time... what the FRAK!"

All the eyes shot to the nearest dradis screen at the newest icon clearing the storm.

"They're moving the station!" Tigh mouth hung agape, "that shouldn't even be possible."

"Sir," Dualla spoke up, "I have _Ragnar Anchorage_ requesting jump coordinates."

It took Adama a second to catch up with what was happening.

"Transmit them," was all he could say.

"Sir," Kelly's voice now interrupted their watch, "_Tartarus_ reports _Theia_ is has explosive decompression along her starboard side," Kelly nodded as more reports began to filter into the CIC, "she's listing and their communications are out."

"Dispatch rescue _Raptors_ and any civilian ships with available landing space," Adama offered but knew they hadn't the manpower or ship strength to mount an all out salvage, "but continue jumping of the rest of the fleet."

"Sir, the Space Guard ship is moving along side the _Theia_," Dualla called out, "it appears she is launching multiple small vehicles at her."

"Looks like they're helping to," Colonel Tigh noted.

"Good for them but we're not going to stick around," Command Adama ordered. "Begin pre-jump preparation and recovery our birds. The moment the last civilian is away we jump to the rendezvous point."

"Understood," Kelly answered as he began to call out for pre-flight checks.

* * *

"Now remember," _Victory's_ Chief Medical Doctor Xianextnucatoital cautioned the fifteen doctors and more then three-dozen nurses standing in a wide circle around him. "We are most likely dealing with sever burns, oxygen depravation and blunt force trauma. Expect for paranoia and fear among these people. The only other contact they've had with the outside universe is their own mechaniods and they tried to nuke them. Now bear in mind your basic triage. Inject emergency medi-nanos to stabilize incoming cases, mark green for minor, yellow for serious but non-life threatening, red for immediate and black for deceased. Do your job and keep your cool people"

And with that he broke the quick informal debriefing to return to the stocking of his main surgical bay. Already the C&C reported inbound shuttles would be docking in the next ten minutes and the warship was only twenty from directly link the crippled Battlestar. By then the sickbay was going to be packed.

Onboard an _Ares_-class ship there was an average of four sickbays with almost five doctors each, a qualified nursing staff of fifty and more then eighty medical droids to deal with almost six hundred patients in emergency situations. Xianextnucatoital cursed as three of his staff were out for their seasonal hibernations and two others had taken a third of his medical droid to help with a recent outbreak of Viidan Phage on _New Rennasia_.

Now they were left with only fifteen doctors and thirty nurses left to deal with a ship that intelligence reported could carry in excess of four thousand people.

But Xianextnucatoital was use to crushing patient loads under extreme cases.

He had served on a medical frigate assigned to the First Offensive Gamma Fleet during the _Third_ _Hegemony-Pryian War_. Plasma burns, radiation exposures and tentacle contusions were the prime damaged done when soldiers went up against the methane breathing cephalopods and Xianextnucatoital was knee deep in screaming patients in only his first week as chief medical officer on the _Parliament of Dreams_. It had made him learn that nothing ever turns out, as you needed it to.

That was especially true fifteen minutes later as Sickbay Alpha found itself inundated with more then twice its suitable patient load.

Some injuries were minor.

"Sir please, you have to remain still," Nurse Robal quelled her groaning patient as she tried to seal his injury with a suture-laser. "Sir, please you have to stay put in order for me to reseal your sutures."

"I don't give a frak horn head," the man spat in her face as he clutched at his bleeding shoulder, "get me out of here."

One thing the Colonial officer didn't know about the young Tophan nurse was that when her species was enraged their cranial ridges went erect, pushing the once small four barbs on her nose out to almost three inches of bone that could cut through flesh.

"LISTEN!" she roared at the man who was now inching deeper into his hospital bed at the monster that had replaced his pleasant soft spoken healer, "I don't give a flying piece of organic refuse what you think of my cranial structure but if you don't sit you ass down immediately I will end up stitching your hand to your forehead. Now while I believe that will be an improvement over the current burden that is looking at you, I think you may mind. So shut up, sit still and bite your Goddess damn tongue so I can do my job!"

Others were far more serious.

"Pulmonary scanner," Dr. Xianextnucatoital took the cylinder from his assisting nurse and pressed it into the Colonial's neck, "her blood oxygen content is starting to drop. Get a vassal constrictor on that bleed. Where the hell was that stasis field I asked for?"

His lupine surgical nurse only shook his head. "Cargo unit nine said it was on the way."

That didn't sit well for Xianextnucatoital as the towering avian Skorr tensed his yellow wing at the estimate. "This girl is not going to make it in time. Myelin regenerator and a cortical stimulator stat!" he ordered the two nurses and a surgical intern around the operating bed. "If we can stabilize the neural failure in her brain we can work on that bleed."

"Medi-nanos are reporting her bio-neural energy is becoming erratic," his pray-mantis form intern noted from his scanner, "She's going into shock!"

"Activate an isotropic restraint and prepare a ignitron replicator," the chief medical officer yelled as his patient started to convulse on the table. "We have to replace that failing lung."

In all medical center was dealing with more then two hundred patients, a fourth more then their average numbers. And already his people were working themselves to the bone…

* * *

Sue-Shaun gritted her teeth as the medic pulled the bandage on her arm a little tighter then it needed to be. Thankfully it was her only major injury and the medic moved off the moment she was cleared, leaving a worried Anders and Rueisnom waiting in the doorway.

"If that medic pulled these gauzes any tighter," she laughed as she itched at the bandage, "he'd have taken my arm off."

"Always with the dramatics," Rueisnom grinned as the pair entered the room.

"Yes she is like that all the time," Sam confirmed.

"Can we stop making fun of the patient already," Sue-Shaun pouted.

"So what are your plans from here?" Rueisnom asked as the Twi'lek stared out the hospital window at the ruined city beyond.

"I have no idea," Sue-Shaun shrugged, never having paid the thought of living past survival very much energy, "I mean Caprica City is gone... there's not a lot of demand for the Caprica Buccaneers when our stadium is blown halfway across the city.

"True," Sam agreed, "They are looking for volunteers to head back into the mountains, find refugees that fled to avoid the nukes."

"Always the hero," Sue-Shaun jokingly punched Sam in the arm, "well I'm not about to let you go running through the forests alone. You'd just get yourself killed like always."

"What about you?" Sam asked at the alien.

"Sentinels are freelance until the Senate puts out an order," Rueisnom shrugged, not really paying attention, "Admiral Volaska wants someone to look in to a situation brewing on _Gemenon_, thinks some of the religious hard liners may try to use the attack as an excuse to start their genocides again."

"The Gemonese are always getting into trouble in the name of the Lords," Sue-Shaun shuddered, "Played on _Gemenon_ a few months ago, their people are very dedicate to their faith."

"I spent a while on the Gemenon Fiddlers team," Sam remembered, "not a bunch of boys I liked to hang out a lot with off the field."

"A guide or two may be good, when I head out," Rueisnom smiled. "Care to tag along."

"I think the forests will still be around when we get back," Sam grinned.

"And I always seem to feel most comfortable when someone is shooting at me," Sue-Shaun nodded in glee.

"Then the moment they clear you to leave meet me in Delphi," Rueisnom said making his leave, shouldering his rifle over his arm as he went, "I'll prep my ship in the mean time."

"So you like him," Sam said the moment Rueisnom was out of sight.

"I so do not," Sue-Shaun protested.

"Yes you do," Anders laughed, "Your voice only ever gets that high when you like a guy."

"I am not in love with a walking fire hydrant," Sue-Shaun griped, "He cute but he has tentacles for hair."

"You've dated far more worse," Sam snickered, "Besides he nicer then your... sorry."

They're friendly bickering was interrupted when a shrieking wail nearly made them jump out of their skins.

"_AAAHHHHHH... she is not alive... she is not alive... AHHAHAHAAA... she did it not me... not me... she made me do it... I didn't kill them... she did... why something so beautiful... so deadly... so deadly_... "

Sue-Shaun couldn't feel bad for the man, though she thanked the Lords of Kobol they had put a curtain between them, "Do you think he'll ever be... "

"Doctors doubt it," Sam muttered, as if not wanting to be heard. "After being in that death march and then onto an intense firefight where he almost got mowed down, he's lucky not to be one of those shell shocked mutes wandering the halls downstairs."

"Lets get out of here," Sue-Shaun sad as she gathered up her jacket. "He creeps the hell out of me."

As they were leaving the on call nurse was on her way in. Clipboard in hand she checked off her medication rounds before tucking a pen into her dirty and blood splattered nurse's coat.

"Okay, time for you medicine," she announced as she pulled the curtain aside to find the bewildered young man still thrashing against his restraints. "Open up Mr. Baltar."

* * *

"Five second burn to port," Vonaka ordered, "adjust AG field to compensate."

"Aye," pilot Contallia confirmed as he manipulated his lower arms over the thruster control while his upper pair kept hold of the steering column, "we are now in linear alignment with the ship."

"_Firing bucking cables, now_," Alli nodded as she stood inside the SIT regarding the two holographic ships slowly closing together before her. "_We are locked and reeling_."

"Guidance thrusters to full," Thamos nodded as his primary left hand pushed the throttle upward and his secondary right hand entered in fuel calculations, "bringing us in."

Outside the immense size of the _Victory_ dwarfed that of the _Theia_ as both ships preformed a slow opera of movement, drawing ever closer. At only a few meters away the two of them were dancers in the night, mirroring each other's motions. Finally as they drew near Victory locked her final approach and began docking procedure.

Five tubes, each no more then a few meters across but able to extend over a haft a kilometer, extended from her starboard hull. Each locked onto it's respective point on the _Battlestar's_ flight-pod and started to burn their way through to the people trapped inside.

"_Seal has been established_," Alli announced a moment later. "_We have air. AG-field will be able to keep us above the primary density of the atmosphere for twenty-eight minutes, forty six seconds_."

"That's not long," Vonaka commented.

"_Certainly_," Alli nodded, "_but with the damage we took in the fire fight, we don't have enough energy for anything longer_."

"It will have to do," Vonaka acknowledged, "send them in."

* * *

"Everyone against the wall!" Moneti yelled at the eighteen crewmen and emergency droids assembled behind him as the final atmosphere gauge locked green and the airlock began to peal open.

The moment the docking seal broke the medics understood why.

A spray of bullets snaked right through the moment the crack was open and connected with the head of a droid that hadn't moved in time. Thankfully its titanium plating absorbed the hits with ease but it was enough to stun the poor robot and sending it stumbling, its holographic eyes flickering on its faceplate.

"Not the best time to tell them were here to rescue them," Upsalon grumbled, as he pressed further back into the wall to avoid more incoming hits.

"Send me in first," Alhex yelled over the gunfire, as he pushed his helmet off in a serious lapse of personal safety, "I can talk them down."

"How the hell do you intend to do that?" Donatito snorted, "Use your body as a living shield as you try to make nice?"

"Ok we'll send you in," Moneti countered, "someone who looks like them, talks like them and is at least is mammalian. No wait you're a two meter tall pink alien with tentacles for hair!"

The scowl his XO gave him could have curled milk, but he still conceded, "Go!"

Surrendering his rifle to a nearby deckhand Alhex took a deep breath and yelled as loud as he could. "Hold your fire! I repeat we are here to provide rescue! Hold your fire."

For a few long seconds the one sided firefight continued, until suddenly the quiet sound of guns being cocked caught his ears.

"Cease fire!" a far off women's voice screamed at the few stray soldiers that hadn't heard her orders continued to fire, "Cease fire you gods damned frakkers!" then once the air was quiet he heard her voice again addressing him. "Who the hell are you?"

The question was blunt and to the point, something that in this situation everyone preferred.

"I am Lieutenant Alhex Moneti," he identified himself, "Guard officer of the Hegemony of Sentient Worlds. The Cylons have been driven off and we're here to rescue you."

When no response returned and the guns remained silent Alhex began to worry. Reports from their shuttle pilots and medics already told these people had seen the worse that life could throw at them and still come out psychically alive.

Mentally was another story.

Taking a chance and hoping his thick armor would protect him from the any bullets Alhex pushed his hands into the air as the universal sign of unarmed peace and stepped into the open.

Inside the hanger deck was a mess, destroyed Vipers and loose parts were strewn across the floor as fires burned uncontrollably in a far off bay. Behind one of the destroyed fighters several Colonials utilized the ship as a makeshift barricade.

"Stand back. Do it now," a woman ordered, "You're human."

"Close enough," Moneti muttered under his breath before breaking into a hearable voice, "we need to start getting your people off this ship."

The Colonial woman however wasn't convinced, rapidly approaching and pointing the rifle into his nose. "How do we know you're not Cylon?"

"If I was a Cylon, do you think I would bother talking and just nuke this ship to save me the trouble," he offered, though his wording could have been a little easier considering the Cylon's liberal use of them.

"They boarded us before," the obviously on-edge woman jittered, "tried to vent our atmosphere and turn our weapons on our comrades. But we fought them off."

"And you should be commended," Moneti said trying to ease her tension, "but this ship is falling out of orbit and time is running out. Do you want to wait for a rescue ship that may never come or do you want to get the hell out of here with the guy that is offering you safety at only feet away?"

The idea of rescue seemed to be enough to convince her of putting a clip of bullets in his face. "If your lying I'm going to personally blow your brains out."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," the Lieutenant replied with a smirk. "Medical personnel are behind me along with rescue officers. Do you have wounded that need moving?"

She gestured her rifle behind her and Alhex could immediately make out two-dozen people lying across the deck, each with varying degrees of bleeding and badly mangled wounds.

"Sickbay was next to one of the spaced sections," the Colonial explained, "so we evacuated most of the wounded onto the hanger deck."

"Captain Upsalon," Alhex yelled to his commanding officer, which was still hidden behind the airlock's doors, "get our people moving! We have survivors."

Sixteen officers rapidly poured onto the deck, nurses stabilizing patients for transport, search and rescue personnel spreading out to scour the ship and towering emergency drones began to clear debris.

"What the hell is that!" the leading Colonial shouted as a seven foot tall robot lifted their former barricade and pressed the Viper up against the wall to make floor on the deck.  
"Captain Donatito Upsalon," Moneti introduced as his XO rapidly approached, thankfully shouldering his plasma rifle, "meet... I don't believe you ever told me your name?"

"Chief Petty Officer Katherine Mika," she whipped the grease from her head as she offered a haft assed salute. "This is my hanger deck."

"Katherine we are going to move your people onto our ship," Upsalon explained. "Sickbay will take immediate cases, cargo bays and mess halls have been converted to house your people and we are requesting anyone with working legs to help with the rescue. We have forty minutes until this ship is crushed like a tin can."

"We have people spread across the entire ship," Officer Mika enlightened them. "Fires are too strong here and the lifts aren't working, so _Galactica's Raptors_ can't dock. Everyone is trying to get over to the port flight-pod but damage is heavy along _Theia's_ spine and our entire engine section is spaced. Most anyone you can find will be in the forward sections and the port side."

"Life support systems are offline along with fire suppression," Alhex supplied. "Alli estimates air is going to start getting scarce in a few minutes if something isn't done quickly."

"Have them crank up the oxygen recyclers on _Victory_," Donatito held. "Get these people moving. Officer Mika, can you point me towards the largest group of survivors?"

"We know a ton of people are stuck in the forward areas," Katherine added. "They were sealed off after a nuke tripped the system and we have about a hundred people trapped behind those doors with no way out."

"Captain, I need four men and an engineering droid," Alhex offered, "I'll head towards that section and do what I can."

"Understood," Upsalon allowed. "I believe your command bridge was in that area?"

"Yeah," Katherine remembered, "about two sections in."

"Rescuing those people is your first priority Lieutenant," Donatito continued, "but if you can make contact with the command crew and extract the leading flag officer."

"Yes sir!" Alhex saluted. "Tjander, Riber, Leba and Hsin'aps, you're with me."

The four soldiers and one droid rushed after their leader as he rushed into the bowels of the _Theia_.

* * *

"Something has changed," the assembled models all stared at her, a mixture of emotions across their faces as Natalie spoke, "something wonderful. The Centurions saw one of the Final Five. That is why the _Raiders_ broke off their attacks, why the Hybrid retreated. Something huge has shifted."

"Thoughts have changed," Cavil argued. "Yes, they change. The _Raiders_ changed. That's where all this started, with them. Somehow they exceeded their programming, and unlike us, they can't correct themselves. So we're gonna have to do it for them."

"Do what?" Eight asked.

"We'll reconfigure their neural architecture," Five explained, "and shave down their heuristic responses."

"Dumb them down?" Two was stunned. "Lobotomize them?"

"They're tools," Four grimaced, "not pets. But in any case, it has to be done."

"Says who?" Natalie countered.

"Says God Almighty, the voice of reason," Cavil insisted, "that's who. When are you gonna hear it?"

"You don't have the authority," she strolled very close to him, as their noses almost touched, "to make any change without a majority vote."

"Well," Cavil smirked, "we'll vote. The Fours and Fives will be on my side."

"There will be a vote," Natalie grinned. "The _Raiders_ hear what we hear."

"The _Raiders_ are simple machines," Cavil dictated.

"No," Natalie protested. "Something extraordinary has happened. Something is calling to us. Pushing us to discover our origins, to understand our place in the universe. Something caused our virus to fail. Something protected the Colonials from our war. Destiny kept us from destroying out creators. The Raiders are part of that, and the Final Five-"

"Are anywhere but with the humans," Cavil vowed. "Now we have conferred all the models. The Fours and the Fives have joined the Ones, and they have voted to reconfigure the _Raiders_."

"Gee," Natalie leered, "what a surprise. Well, the Twos, Sixes and Eights voted against it, that leaves the Threes."

All eyes in the room turned to the singular representing model, a tall woman of almost seething anger and ennoble grace.

"I'm sorry Natalie," she spoke after a turn. "We have to be able to defend ourselves. The Threes vote to reconfigure."

"Then it is decided," Cavil clapped his hands together as he relished his victory.

"If you do this," Natalie reviled this decision, "we all lose."

"We think it's for the best," Four said.

"The _Raiders_ are sentient," Three scowled, "just as we are. There was a plan, a divine plan in our design. You're butchering them."

"We're reconfiguring them," Cavil smiled.

"You are not God," Eight frowned.

"No," Cavil beamed, "I'm a mechanic. The _Raiders_ were designed to do a specific job. They stopped doing it, I'm fixing that. And when the cutting's all done, they'll go back to being happy warriors. So let's move on, all right?"

But the seething glare she shot him told Cavil that Natalie was going to be trouble in the future…

* * *

"Final _Raptors_ pulling out now," Kelly announced. "Boomer reports ten survivors."

"That brings us up to eight hundred," Adama noted.

"Theia had a full crew of three thousand," Tigh added up. "Cylon boarding killed nine hundred, Raptors and emergency boats saved eight hundred. That leaves almost... "

Adama finished his sentence, "Thirteen hundred men and women dead or missing... "

"Sir, the Space Guard is still docked to _Theia_," Dualla nodded towards the dradis screens and the massive alien spaceship, "maybe they'll make it out with everyone else."

Adama had to hope that she was right because if not, a more then a thousand men and women were going to die.

"Maintain position over the storm and continue collecting those escape boats," Adama ordered. "Let hope _Victory_ can make it back in one piece in the meantime. Tell the other _Battlestars_ to jump, well join them at the meeting point."

"Commander," Dualla hollered for his attention and again Adama rolled on his heels and approached the specialist, "the last civilian ships are jumping now."

On the dradis the dradis icons of the civilian fleet flashed out. The _Kimba_ _Huta_ and _Thera_ _Sita_, two large cargo shuttles, disappeared in a boom of light, followed a second later by the last four luxury liners, _Pan_ _Galactic_ _0192_, _Chiron_, _Aurora_ and _Colonial_ _One_ jumping away with the last few thousand civilians.

All that remained was _Ragnar Anchorage._

"Hull stress is increasing!" Seelix shouted as the station fought to break itself from the edge of the storm. "I think we have a hull breach forming!"

The sound of tearing metal answered them a second later. Racetrack and Cedric rushed to the nearest viewing portal and before them they could see a section of one of the upper rings had ruptured. A spray of debris and cold air rushed out but something else. Margaret could guess what it was for a second, maybe her mind was refusing to believe what it was until she heard the conversation behind her continuing.

"Damage control teams report hull breach," Gretchen divulged the obvious, "habitat ring one, section eight."

"Was there anyone in there?" Cedric asked.

"Eight-hundred people," the woman was almost unbelieving in utter shock as she reported the number. "Most of the passengers from the _Pyxis_ and _Regina_ were in there."

It was people.

That's was what she was seeing. People spinning in the void, flying out into nothing, as they became pinpoints among the stars.

"We can't push her any further," Seelix shrieked, "anymore and we'll tear the entire station apart!"

"Then jump her here," Racetrack rounded, not wanting to see anything outside any longer.

"If we jump inside the storm, the spatial disturbance could tear the facility apart!" Cedric argued.

"If we don't jump here," Margaret declared, "we'll just fall back into the storm and kill the other nine-thousand people onboard."

"Generators are charged," Seelix proclaimed, "we're far enough out of the storm that we could safely jump her."

"Can you do it, Cedric?" Gretchen stared at the man, who quickly glanced between his superior and the other women around him.

"Begin spinning up the drive coils!" he shouted as he took his post.

"Clock is running," Racetrack announced. "Five... four... three...

Like an echo it rattled up the superstructure, a screaming sound that was only matched by the growing light.

The _Anchorage_ jumped, the massive spatial disturbance shock-wave sending a visible swell rolling over _Ragnar's_ upper atmosphere.

* * *

The two ships spun around each other, one fighting to fall, and the other trying to keep her afloat. It was a battle of titans and they were both losing as they fell deeper into the thick roaring atmosphere.

"Sir our thrusters can't hold us in orbit for long," Thamos said as he continued to try and keep the _Victory_ in perfect alignment with the Colonial ship, "Gravity is starting to take hold and our trajectory is decaying, rapidly."

"At our current rate of descent the atmosphere will begin to compress my hull is another five minutes," Alli further continued as she appeared before the C&C crew, "I suggest we disengage from the _Battlestar_ immediately to avoid becoming trapped by the atmosphere."

"Negative," Vonaka shock his head. "We're the only thing keeping her in space and if we break seal now she's doomed. How many people are still left onboard?"

"My sensors can discern over three hundred life signs spread across the _Battlestar_," the AI nodded as she highlighted several pockets of survivors on the nearby ship. "We have already removed an additional four hundred ninety two survivors. Vonaka... we are about to hit terminal depth. With my damage I won't be able to escape the atmosphere if we hold any longer. Well loss the ship if we don't disengage right now."

He hated to leave three hundred people to their death but he had little choice. Rescue teams were still spread throughout the ship and if they broke seal now, more then a few familiar faces were doing down with this vessel.

"Break seal but keep us at safe cruising depth," he announced. "The shuttles can stay a bit longer then we can, let's make it count."

Out in the bellowing hailstorm of rolling methane and winds of chlorine the docking tubes began to detach, rescue crews and those Colonials who had volunteered to help with the evacuation to the last second rushed through as the airlocks began to seal themselves shut. In one mighty push the Guard warship peeled away, angling itself up and into to safety as the _Theia_ took a nosedive to its deck.

Onboard search and rescue teams had to work, all taking glances at their chorometers and watching as the minutes ticked away.

One in particular worked even harder.

The deck took a violent tilt downward and debris in the CIC began rolling in the direction gravity had shifted. By now the _Battlestar_ would be entering the final stages of safe descent. Any longer and the pressure was going to become mortal, meaning that the crushing atmosphere was going to finally take its toll.

Alhex grabbed onto a nearby station to keep from joining the falling rubble as other members of the rescue crew stumbled to and fro. Riber had to go down into a crouch in order to keep her balance.

"We have to go Lieutenant!" she yelled over the roaring fires that had consumed a fourth of the room already, "Victory says the ships bout to hit stratosphere."

They had been at this for almost twenty five minutes. _Victory_ had already disengaged as was beginning her arduous rise out of the gas giant's clouds back into the safety of space. They were the last group onboard, trying to get the last bit of people off as their shuttle vigilantly remained connected to the hull in the buffeting winds.

Five minutes remained until this entire place was crunched into a minuscule piece of metal the size of his palm and he did not want to be here when it happened.

He was almost about to turn around when a cough caught his ears.

"Hold on!" he called out to the four members of the team who were already heading towards the only open exit in the entire room, "I have another survivor!"

It was a young Colonial officer, most likely in his late twenties, with curly black hair and a dark complexion. If it weren't for the blood seeping out of a head wound and support beam pinning him to the ground, he could have passed as a relatively good look human.

"Lieutenant we don't have time," Hsin'aps hissed to deter him from going after the man, "Leave him!"

But Alhex was not going to hear anything of the sort, "No one gets left behind! Now help me with this Gaia be damned beam!"

Understanding that he was have no chance to stop his leader the robust Tarka gripped his claws onto the edge of the support beam the Colonial was trapped under and joined by Leba and Tjander they forced the massive piece of metal off the poor man. How Hsin'aps wished they still had that emergency droid. But alas they had used the machine to guide a group of fifty Colonials back to their ship as they continue onward in their search.

A resounding crashed followed the beam as they managed to roll it off the man trapped below it with little harm.

With the crushing pressure removed the Colonial groaned under the relief.

"Don't move," Alhex warned him "you have possible internal bleeding and a concussion." Turning to Tjander, his friend and field medic, he quickly ordered, "Dose him with some medi-nanos and get ready to transport him."

"Sir, he is too injured," the Daliwakan officer advised him, "If we move him he could die."

"And in about ten seconds this entire ship is going to be crushed into a pebble," Alhex contradicted, "I think considering the options to fight to survive are a better way to go. Now put a bracer on him and let's get moving."

And with only a curt bow Tjander did as he was told.

The moment they were sure the Colonial was safe to move Alhex slung the smaller man over his shoulder and they were off running.

"Victory reports they deployed a Romanov along the main flight deck," Leba called out as they followed him through the snaking corridors towards their ride, "but their only holding for another two minutes."

"Then move it!" Alhex roared as he continued to shoulder the man he was carrying.

The groaning and trembling of the pressure now being extered on the Theia was starting to echo in each of the squad's ears as they pressed onwards. Time was becoming a luxury they did not have.

"There it is!" Ribber almost shrieked when the sight of the Romanov's airlock burned through the hull came into view.

Wasting no time they nearly threw themselves through the opening and into safety.

"GO, GO, GO!" Alhex scremaed as the Neo-stell door slammed shut behind them.

The Romanov pulled off the crumbling metal skin, just in time as Theia hit terminal depth. No longer able to keep herself together the structural integrity began to collapse in on itself. One sub-light engine ripped off into the torrent of wind, followed a second later by the port flight-pod.

Hull plating blew off like snowflakes and compressed oxygen sprayed out from the crushed sections, blasting the shuttle backwards as it started its rapid ascent. Rolling and fighting the ship fought speeds in excess of ten thousand kilometer per hour.

No long able to bear the unceasing fury it was under the vessel finally exploded into a brillant fireball that lite the atmosphere well into orbit.

"Status?" the Lieutentant asked of the two pilots that were currently fighting to bring them out safely.

"Hull temperature is in excess of 52-degrees Kelvin, depth is within critical limit," the bugged eye, salamander looking Salarian pilot replied, "If we don't pull out now will implode in six minutes.

"Reroute life support to armor," Leba, their engineering expert commanded as she furiously held herself to the wall as the shuttle bucked and rolled.

"Is that wise?" the copilot purpled headed Kobali asked.

"We won't need to breath if were crushed to the size of peas," Leba swore.

"Understood!" the Salarian nodded.

The shuttle lurches and shook violent but suddenly began to level out.

"We're caught in a cross current!" the copilot exclaimed the shear luck of the draw they had received.

Alhex didn't need much prompting, "Take us in!"

Romanov slipped into the space between two thermal layer, where the heat of friction created from two opposing wind currents rushing against each other created a small region of inert floating gas, much like the one Ragnar Anchorage used.

As they were now safe from the crushing pressure of the gas giant around them Alhex moved back to his survivor who was fighting to prop himself up against the back bulkhead.

"Don't try and move," Moneti tried to stop him, "You've sustained serious injures."

"What..." The Colonial managed a croak, "what... happened."

"You've lost a lot of blood," Alhex supplied, "We found you in your ship's command room."

Realizing he was the only Colonial currently on board his eyes seemed to go wide for a second. "Dolla... where's Command Dolla?"

Who ever he was implying was most likely in the room with him when whatever destroyed the room happened. "You were the only one found alive, all the others were... "

Again trying to move Alhex had to restraint the main from causing further damage. Waving his wrist scanner over the face of the young man he started to list off the injuries he had sustained with hope that they would be enough to stop his further attempts to move.

"You have four broken ribs, shattered ankle, a lacerated liver and your kidneys are non-functional. You're going to need a night in a nano-bath to fix haft the bruises you have."

He motioned to Tjander who had been gripping an overhead railing for support during their entire exchange.

Knowing what to do he extracted a compression-needle from his equipment harness and moving silently Tjander injected the Colonial's neck with a concentrated mix of common sedatives and pain killers. The effect was almost instant as exhaustion overtook his eyes.

"Felix," the Colonial crocked, "my name is Felix Gaeta," and with that he was out cold.

Reaching into his equipment belt Alhex removed a wipe and started to attempt to clean the blood and grim that covered the man's face. But upon seeing the smirk on Tjander's face Alhex had to ask why his friend was smiling.

"What!"

"Nothing," the soldier continued to smile, "you just seem to like him a lot."

"Need I remind you about that certain female your hit on last time we were on _Sigma Victoria_," Alhex argued.

"She was cute!" Tjander defended his choice of women.

"She was a milking cow!" Alhex roared as the man continued to laugh.

Huffing at his comrade, Alhex turned about to continue care for his patient.

* * *

The hood came off and bright light assaulted Helo's eyes.

Before him stood the beautiful blond woman, intently staring him down as she threw the hood aside.

"Are you alive?" she asked, her fingers tenderly touched his cheeks.

"Agathon, Carl C. Lieutenant Junior Grade," he repeated, remembering his anti-interrogation training, "Colonial Fleet, P.K. 789934... "

"I know who you are, Helo," she said disinterested with his rambling, "It's all right, I'm a friend."

Slowly and tenderly her fingers danced down his face, tracing the worn lines of the last unending days of terror. Her lips caressed his, the warm flesh tender against his own.

How he had missed the feeling of another human being so close to him, to be touched and felt. If it weren't for the unending dread he had whenever she moved her fingers over him, as if she was trying to study him like a project.

It was so startling when a gunshot rang out and the blond feel to the side, her white suite marred by a bubbling red flower.

Looking in the direction of the shot he was ever more startled when he saw Sharon standing in the rain soaked distance.

"Sharon?" he managed, trying to move towards her before realizing he was tied down, "What are you doing here?"

"Can you walk?" she yelled, reaching him with an open pocket knife unsheathed and cutting his restraints.

"Yeah," Helo managed as he stood up with her, "Yeah, yeah, I think so. What are you doing here?"

"Just move," she deflected the question as she holstered her gun and knife before ushering him onward, "mister."

As they rushed off into the forest neither of them saw the Six staring at their retreat. Beside her stood a Centurion, monitoring and reporting on the situations back to Cylon command.

The experiment had begun and they were going to be watching this situation very closely.

* * *

Sickbay was still packed but at least it wasn't as tense as before.

Most none critical patients had thankfully been moved down to the small refugee camps forming in the mess hall and aft cargo bays. With a full crew the _Victory_ had little to offer in the way of proper living quarters but with enough cots and some makeshift partitions made the immense rooms' homier then one would think.

Xianextnucatoital couldn't complain, his advance sense of smell tended to become insufferable around the odors that humans naturally seethed… enough to turn the Skorr's stomachs.

Most of the medical staff were still treating patients below deck so all but a few nurses and a dozen med-droids were still on duty to deal with any possible situation that could arise.

Only those considered part of the intensive care unit were left under his watchful l and he took his vigilance literally, managing to squash the terribly and overpowering stench.

And it arose with much greater frequency then Xianextnucatoital would have liked.

"Doctor!"

Turning he found himself faced with a panting Lieutenant Moneti holding a battered young man in his arms.

Obviously some had gotten off the Colonial ship later then others.

"Oh, damn the Great Contributor!" Xianextnucatoital groaned. "I thought we got everyone off the Colonial ship already."

"We were stuck on a transport that lifted off just as the ship imploded," Moneti explained, "been fighting our way out of the lower storm clouds trying to get back here. He stopped breathing a few seconds before we go in."

The convulsions that started almost the second the Colonial was on the exam table and knowing time wasn't on their side, Xianextnucatoital launched into action.

"What's happening!" Alhex exclaimed at the sight of the young man seizure.

"He's going into neural shock," Nurse Libby Ransom sounded as she waved a medical scanner over Felix. "Damn he has a forming epidural hematoma, rupture is reaching critical levels."

"Laser scalpel!" Xianextnucatoital ordered and quickly was handed one by a reptilian Hazari.

"You may want to step back Lieutenant," the Hazari, who Alhex knew in passing as Dlihc Krige, suggested, "it's going to get messy."

A few minutes of intense surgery and Xianextnucatoital was draining off the built up blood, a splash and then a steady stream of blood pouring off the table in a morbid drip, drip. Nurse Ransom continued to scan Gaeta's body, her holographic tool stained by the red gore.

"Pressure is dropping but he has serious damage to his frontal lobes," she summarized. "I am reading his entire motor cortex is thirty percent gone and most of the orbital frontal lobe is dying off now."

"He'll be alive," Dlihc observed, "but the chances of him being able to hold a complete conversation let alone be able to blink in sequence is slim to none."

But as both the nurses accepted the fact that this patient was now rendered a mute Xianextnucatoital was unwilling to accept that fate.

"Ransom hand me a sub dermal charger," the avian commanded as both medics went into action, "and Krige get me a cortical node from the medical locker. If we work fast we can save most of his higher brain functions."

Alhex watched intently as Xianextnucatoital began to carve away the destroyed and blacken portions of Gaeta's brain, blood quickly pooling to obscure what little he could see through the tiny gap in the man's forehead. With years of field training and a decade as chief neurosurgeon on _Kavis Alpha IV, _the doctor set to work.

Krige arrived a few seconds later with a thin inch long cylinder that glowed bright green, handling the tiny object like it was the most breakable object in the universe. With extreme care Xianextnucatoital inserted the device in Felix's exposed brain, fitting the apparatus into the deficit he had created in the Colonial's brain.

Resealing the wound, they all waited as the piece of machinery began to adapt to its new settings.

"Charge the node and prepare for assimilation," Xianextnucatoital announced as the three healers took a step back.

They were safe to do so as a second later the cortical node did its job acting as a artificial processor for the brain. The shock to Gaeta's body, while nothing major, was enough to cause his body a sizable jolt before he settled back onto the tabletop.

"Cortical node is integrating," Nurse Ransom reported, "higher brain functions and central cortex are stabilizing."

"Good," Xianextnucatoital acknowledged, "start cleaning him up and move him to the ICU for the time being."

"Is he alright," Alhex asked as the Chief Medical Officer broke from his patient.

"He's fine, we managed to implant a cortical node into his brain, rescuing his language and cognitive abilities before they were too far gone," Xianextnucatoital explained. "Other then that he should make a full recovery.

"Thank you, doctor," Moneti nodded as he turned to go, but he didn't make it far.

"Lieutenant," Xianextnucatoital called out, "where do you think your going?"

Turning back towards the man confused Alhex said, "I have to report to the Admiral on the rescue and debrief."

"You can do that later," Xianextnucatoital pointed his talon downward as he spoke, "in the mean time you're bleeding on my floor."

Looking down Alhex noticed that the Doctor was right. Somewhere on his mad dash off the Theia he must have caught his leg on something, as a pool of blood was forming under his left boot.

"Get onto the table," the Doctor ordered, "you're my patient until I say otherwise."

And mumbling under his breath Alhex did as he was told, laying himself down on the table as the Doctor began to poke and prod him in his cut. What he wouldn't give for brain surgery right now.

* * *

"Sir," Kelly nearly clamored over the information management table as he raced up to the two commanding officers with news. "Dradis is picking up something coming out of the atmosphere."

"Is it the _Victory_?" Adama asked.

"I am getting a friendly communication from the alien ship, Commander," Dualla confirmed. "Admiral Vonaka repeats _Theia_ is destroyed."

The mood was solemn and more then one person in the CIC was wondering how many people the lone craft had manage to pull from the jaws of death.

"Ask them how many they pulled off of _Theia_," Adama asked the most pressing question.

"Unknown sir," Dualla reported, "head-count has yet to be put together but they report almost five hundred total."

"Tell _Victory_ to lock them down, we'll get the final numbers later," Adama commanded. "Transmit final jump coordinates to _Victory_ and spool up the FTL."

The immense Battlestar rolled over the storm clouds of Ragnar, the last sentinel as the Guard warship coasted behind her. Both her pot marked in weapon's fire and burns, battle scars from the previous battle.

Like the victors to the spoils they enjoyed their presences as the last ones standing on the battlefield.

"Spooling FTL," Kelly announced, "jumping."

Galactica flashed out, a second later Victory transition too.

A thump in between the space-time continuum and then the two vessels unfolded into normal space.

"We are now in geosynchronous orbit," Captain Aaron Kelly smiled, "above _Caprica_."

"Sir, I am getting something," Anatastia voiced as she pressed her headphone to her ears.

"Tell me what it is, Dee," Commander Adama pressed.

"It's comm. chatter... " she muttered, "lots of comm. chatter."

"Put it on the speakers," Tigh ordered.

The sound of an open communication channel crackled over the CIC. Nothing at first and then...

"... _this is the Battlestar Aegeus to Galactica, please respond... conditions planet-side are starting to clear-up, preparing to land... Battlestar Juno to Battlestar Galactica... Delphi spaceport was secured from the Cylons four hours ago... this is an official Colonial broadcast to all people of the Twelve Colonies, President Roslin has been confirmed by the emergency governing council of_... "

* * *

"Here, I want you to drink this very slowly," the towering bird offered as he handed a glass to Gaeta, who scrutinized the mixture. "It is only water."

Glupping down the cool and desperately needed liquid, Gaeta only managed to ask one word while he was downing the glass.

"How?"

"How?" Xianextnucatoital tried to smile but his beak meant he was incapable of showing any facial emotions. "Well, when two hydrogen atoms love each other very much, they bond with an oxygen atom… Sorry, medical humor. How do you feel?"

"Fine," Felix admitted as he felt the bump on his head, healing quickly from the miracle that was these alien's medical knowledge. "Just a little headache."

"Well that's good, considering you just underwent emergency brain surgery!" Xianextnucatoital laughed.

"What!" Gaeta coughed on his water.

"You frontal lobes were being compressed from a bleeding hematoma," Xianextnucatoital explained, "resulting in significant damage to your language and motor cortex. We had to relieve the pressure and install a cortical node into your right occipital lobe. If we hadn't, you would have probably been rendered a vegetable or a mute."

Felix couldn't understand a word of the technobabble he was hearing, "You put a _what_ in my brain?"

"A cortical node," repeated slower. "It is a basic piece of technology that has been in use by our doctors for over two thousand cycles. It acts at to coordinate higher brain functions, such as language, and it contains an index of enhanced memory engrams that will increase your learning ability."

"Is it safe," Felix asked, horrors of the First Cylon War and their iconic hacking of Colonial ships burning fresh in his paranoid imagination. "I mean I have a computer in my brain, is that safe?"

"Most certainly," Xianextnucatoital disapproved of any fears. "A cortical node is a common installation among almost every Hegemony citizen, along with their first round of vaccinations as a child. They help to increase the learning curve, function as a universal translator and promote a more effective immune system. In essence you should be smart and healthier then you were before."

"I guess," Gaeta thanked him and every Lord of Kobol he could think of also. "Thanks for saving my life."

"Don't thank me," Xianextnucatoital only shook his head, "thank Lieutenant Moneti. He's the one that risked his hide to get you off that bucket. I just patched you up."

"He did?" Gaeta had to think for a second before remembering the towering white skinned man that had saved him from the rubble back onboard _Theia_.

"Pull'd you out of your ship's command room," Xianextnucatoital recounted. "Last one off the ship to... literally! If he was five-second slower you and he would be super condensed organic particles right now."

Then the most critical fact finally hit Felix.

"He was human!"

"Human, humanish, humanoid," Xianextnucatoital shrugged. "My species is unable to tell the sexual dimorphism of you primates, so I can't tell one of your kind from the other. If it weren't for your pretty heads of fur and their many colors, I'd never have a chance."

"What's his colony?" Felix had to know.

But Xianextnucatoital wasn't going to reveal that information with Alhex's consent. "Why are you asking that?"

"He's human," Gaeta pushed, "what Colony is he from."

"Lieutenant Moneti," Xianextnucatoital made crystal clear, "does not talk about his homeworld. It is a touchy subject that many a blundering cadet has made the mistake of asking. Last on that did required a hundred stitches and extensive psychotherapy before he was ready for duty again. Now how about we get you out of that very revealing gown and back into some real clothes..."

* * *

Roslin pressed her hands into her face, trying to wipe the sleepiness from her eyes. Trying to keep this fleet from tearing itself apart was slowly pressing her to the limit and almost two days without sleep was staring to tug at the last of her energy.

"Madam President," Roslin had to suppress a sigh as Billy continued to press, "Madam President."

"I'm sorry," Roslin gulped down her unease, "were you saying something?"

"No Cylons for six hours," he reported. "At least you know it was the right choice. We're still here after all."

Sighing she slowly rose and moved away from her desk, staring out of the tiny portholes as _Caprica_ drifted below. In geosynchronous orbit over the former capital, an honorary move for the old government center, the vessel was flanked by four _Mercury's_, two _Hoods _and the aging _Battlestar Galactica_, a heavy amount of protection to ensure that any Cylon retaliation would cripple the leaders of their nation again.

With Caprica City rendered a crater from a Cylon nuke and each Colony suffering some kind of crippling damage to its government the only available location deemed worthy to command the twelve world nation now made _Colonial One_ the only form of civilize government in the solar system. Laura Roslin stared out the window of her office at the planet below, vividly remembering only days before how she had been on its surface, breathing crisp fall air and walking sunny streets. Now a world formerly nicknamed the 'Blue Ball of the Colonies' had been reduced to a muddy looking world with black clouds floating over vast stretches of dead soil.

The best environmentalists in the Colonies maintained that one day _Caprica_ would be beautiful again, but not in her lifetime, her soon to be very short lifetime.

"The right choice?" Laura almost couldn't believe it, "I'm sorry, Billy, I think I'd like some time alone, please."

"Of course," he aide nodded but just as he was almost out of the office he suddenly turned around, glancing at a piece of paper in his hand.

"What is it?" Roslin asked when she noticed he hadn't left.

"Update on the head count," Billy said.

"Subtract how many?" Roslin groaned.

"Actually," Billy had to repress a hint of glee in his eyes, "you can add one. A baby was born this morning on the _Rising Star_... a boy."

"A baby?" the idea of a birth was almost too much for Roslin to fathom, "Thank you."

Accepting his sign for a departure Billy stepped out as Roslin slowly rose to the white board behind her. Slowly erasing the last number Roslin for the first did something she hadn't been able to do in a while... add.

_200,709_

As Laura put the marker down she couldn't help but smile like a little girl.

Suddenly everything didn't seem as bleak as they once had…

* * *

"_We managed to rescue around six hundred Colonials_," the holographic AI reported as a list of survivors scrolled in front of her. "_Lieutenant Moneti was the last crewman off before it imploded_."

"Remind me to reprimand Alhex and issue a commendation for bravery," Vonaka noted.

"_Should be adequate to equalize the situation_," Alli concurred.

"Start having the non-criticals transferred over to the _Galactica_ by tomorrow," Volaska digested the facts for a second before issuing his next round of order. "In the mean time with the Cylons gone to who knows where and a few billion people spread across this solar system confused, angry and hurting, were are going to need to pull out everything we have to help this civilization."

"_Captain Relbbircsrebu is controlling the 79SpineΔΩ_," Alli informed him, "_which brings us up to fifty-six ships spread across the system. Most of our units are involved in rescue and relief operations so they are bogged down for the time being around the Colonial homeworlds_. _Until reinforcements arrive, we are at our limits._"

At that last statement Volaska had to ask. "What do you make of this solar system any ways?"

"_Overview of the system is a stellar-engineers wet dream_," Alli alleged, though the sour tone of her voice said something else was amiss. "_Astrologically it is impossible for a solar system such as this to have formed naturally_."

"So you're saying that someone built this system?" Volaska had to admit the evidence was already flying in the stellar-cartography department and the egg heads were going made over the fact that something had put this system together like a fine piece of china.

"_Yes_," Alli agreed. "_We have three stars, each a M5-class, all placed a full eight astronomical units apart. Just enough to lock them into each other's orbits, far enough so their gravity's don't pull the others in. This makes the inner solar system a nightmare to navigate, creating a region of sever thermal and gravitational pockets that is near impossible to fly around. But this creates a prefect habitation zone for the four inner Colonial worlds of Gemenon, Caprica, Picon and Scorpia_."

You sound skeptical?

_With good reason, this type of formation is technically impossible. M5-class stars are generally red dwarfs or red giants, who are much cooler than the more habitable G-type stars like Sol or Tau Ceti or Alpha Centauri A. Most planets that orbit M-type stars have to be inside the incredibly close habitable zones, meaning these worlds become tidally locked. This leaves one side of the planet scorched in sunlight, the other forever lost in cold darkness. Most of the time these worlds fail young since the atmosphere on the night side freezes the main gases, leaving the sun exposed side dry and nude._

But _Caprica_ is unbelievably lush, _Scorpia_ according to our findings has some extensive rainforests.

_Yes, the interlocking of the three stars forms a prefect resonance, meaning that enough heat is produce without having to have the planets orbit so close. Too prefect. There is no way these stars should have appeared so readily. It actually causes the habitable zone to be over three times the size of what it normally would be. Hence the reason why distant worlds like Tauron and Sagitarron, which orbit the gas giant Hera, along with Canceron, Libran and Leonis, which orbit the even more distant gas giant Zeus to still receive enough sunlight and heat so that they are not frozen wastelands._

_This is not of course counting the secondary planetary system that orbits the main stars._

Kronos, a G5-type star just a little smaller then Sol. What's wrong with that?

_Because a star like that should never have appeared so close to three others. The gravity halos alone should have either caused it to impact one of the central stars millions of cycles ago or be flung off into space. To have appeared this close should have at least retarded planetary formation across the system. We should have been seeing large rocky planets or radiation bathed debris belts if we jumped in system, not twelve habitable worlds and multiple moons. Virgon orbits Kronos in a near perfect orbit, which uses the gas giant Ragnar to shield it from meteor impacts while still receiving enough sun from its star. Aquaria and Aerilon just happen to be inside the Langarian points of Ragnar too to receive the same treatment. One world inside those null-gravity points is probable, two is impossible. _

So your saying that something had to have had designed this system as the only explanation for its evolution.

"_The likelihood that twelve planets forming naturally, without any form of environmental or gravity control systems behind them, is something that is statistically unfeasible under mother nature's watch_."

"Do you think the Colonials could have something to do with this?" Vonaka asked the most apparent question.

"_Not a chance considering their current technological level_," Alli disavowed. "_The Hegemony has only a basic understanding of stellar engineering, able to move and reorganize planets within a solar system or implode gas giants into micro-stars... but nothing on this level has ever been attempted. Someone had a hand in this system's creations.._. _and it definitely was someone much more powerful then the Hegemony._"

I don't believe anyone in the empire has heard that in over a thousand cycles. Have an idea who it could be?

And that just left more questions unanswered for Volaska to think about…


	11. Chapter Eleven: Cryptic Honor

**Chapter Eleven**: Cryptic Honor

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Rating**: PG-13

**Feedback**: Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywriter by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

* * *

"_Warning: Nova Bombs are known to cause cataclysmic destruction, end of life as you know it, civilization dooming disasters and mild nausea. Please use responsibly and never within five hundred light years of a populated solar system."_

**Warning Label on the Microsoft's Mk. III Nova Bomb, 3041 C.E.**

* * *

**Time**: _Third Month of Ichor, Twenty Seventh Day, 3021 A.F. Hegemony Calendar / March 9rd, 6230 C.E. Terran Calendar / Plus Two-Days from Initial Cylon-Hegemony Contact._

**Location**: _Caprica Orbit, Cyrannus Solar System_

* * *

Another methane bomb slammed into the ground, sending a wave of superheated carbon dioxide and water into the air as several skyscrapers in the distance crumbed like spent toothpicks.

"Get them inside the monastery now!" he roared as more a pair of _Skybolts_ roared overhead, off to engage more Pryian _Firefighters_. Behind him more refugees continued to stream into the temple. The tired, the poor, the rich, all had mingled together in dirty and terrified masses trying to reach some semblance of safety.

One man however separated from the group.

"But what about you?" he yelled as another methane bomb detonated, sending a heat wave over their lines.

But he wasn't going to listen to some damn civilian.

"Shut those doors and don't let anything any of the squids get to those people!" he screamed as another three _Firefighters_ began a strafing run on the refugees.

"MOVE!" he bellowed as he brought his plasma rifle up and continued to fire, ignoring the man's pained expression as he pushed forward...

"Another nightmare?" Alhex jumped back into reality to find Dr. Xianextnucatoital standing over his bed.

"Yeah, what of it?" the Lieutenant groaned as he pushed the towering avian out of his way.

That did little to quell the Skorr doctor as he easily intercepted his patient before he even made it off the bed's edge.

"Lieutenant, if I think that you have a medical problem I will pull rank and have you removed for treatment," Xianextnucatoital lectured as his wings flexed behind him. "I've only held back in order to respect you wishes to deal with it on your own accord. But if it begins to affect this ship or your duties, I will have to do something about it."

"It doesn't affect my duty," Alhex waved him off, "it only affect's my sleep."

"Oh really," Xianextnucatoital replied before pulling up a holo-screen off his wrist-comm. "In the last year since you came onboard, you've taken numerous unnecessary risks in order to complete combat missions, put yourself into the crossfire more times then I prefer to see on record and just yesterday you were nearly crushed by a gas giant's pressure. Four-cycles before that you were volunteering for solo missions with InOps, and in your leave of absences follow the war you spent over a cycle inside the Quarantine Zone tracking rogue Pryian war criminals. You seem to have a penchant for putting your life in danger and that falls under the pretense of suicidal behavior in my medical book."

Understanding that he had little chance of convincing the Doctor otherwise he finally gave in. "And what can I do to appease you?"

"The Admiral wants you prepped and ready to accompany him over to the Colonial flagship," Xianextnucatoital explained. "I believe he wants you there due to your '_self-less_' acts of late."

"Why the hell would he want a tactical officer there?" Alhex hated the idea. "I am a Full Tactical Lieutenant in the Hegemony Space Guard, I have fought in dozens of military campaigns, served on frigates to dreadnoughts. Why do I have to do brief diplomats who don't know a photon missile from a plasma torch?"

"Because the Admiral ordered you," Xianextnucatoital countered, "and because I want you to have a job that is away from shooting at people. And because I hear from a certain Tarkan officer that you are fond of a particular Colonial."

"Shut up," Moneti moaned, wondering how news always seemed to travel faster than light on a ship this big. "I'm going to hit my quarters and get a shower. Tell the Admiral I'll be there as soon as possible."

"Certainly Lieutenant," Xianextnucatoital allowed him to leave, with a wide smirk on his cheeks, "enjoy you cleaning ritual."

* * *

"_Attention_," the P.A. system was old and outdated so the message was more of a grabbled, twisted version of what Captain Kelly had intended but still he continued. "_Colonial One will arrive in thirty-minutes. Repeat.., Colonial One will arrive in thirty-minutes_."

"Damned, son of a bitch sash," Tigh muttered under his breath as he tried to straighten the accursed gold piece of material over his dress uniform. "I don't see why we need to pull out all the stops just 'cause we didn't get our asses nuked. And why the hell is Kelly doing the announcements. Gaeta still holed up in Sickbay."

"Has been since the Guard doctors shipped him over," Bill commented as he tossed a few noodles into his mouth, hoping to get a snack in before the ceremony. "Doc Cottle says he'll be good to go by tomorrow. 'Til then, we have Kelly picking up the slack. What's the word on those damage repair teams."

"Eh," Saul shrugged as he finally managed to pull his dress sash into a position he was happy with. "Tyrol says he'll have most of the big things done by the end week. Starbuck is itching on _Raptor_ detail until he finishes pulling the launch tubes together."

"She'll be able to deal," Adama mumbled. "We have been named the new flagship of the fleet until they transfer the flag to the Tartarus once she'll up to full operations."

"I do love having the old girl begin considered the top ship in the Colonies," Tigh smirked. "It's going to be a frakking shame to loss that once the newest flying bucket gets its last shine."

It was true, that while the _Warriorstar_ _Tartarus_ was the most advance warship the Colonial nation had ever produced she was still a prototype and an untested one at that. Most of her gun-ports were not installed, her crew was a fraction of what could for a skeleton operation and when she arrived at _Ragnar_ as their _'rescue'_ she was being used more as a mobile shield then a weapon of war. Her commander had intended to use the extensive and heavy armor of the _Warriorstar_ to take the hits off the _Rycon_ and _Concordia_.

The moment the necessary crewmen and weapons were shipped off from the scavengers around the ruins of _Picon Fleet Headquarters _and the _Scorpia_ _Shipyard_ the _Tartarus_ would be the first line of defense for the Twelve Colonies of Kobol.

"Yeah," Bill admitted, "until then let's enjoy the prop and procedure."

* * *

The white hull of _Colonial One_ was a shining beacon of pristine beauty and architectural engineering when compared to the bare skeleton of Galactica with its weathered features and gray exterior.

"_Colonial_ _One_, _Galactica_. _Proceed to Omega docking. Contact CIC when you have hard seal_."

A luxury liner to the core the speedy little vessel had managed to slide through the recent disaster without so much as a dot of dirt to mar her hull, all except the recent addition of the presidential seal to her forward section and she was just the same as when she had launched from _Caprica_ a few days ago.

"Roger that, _Galactica_."

Slowly the craft angled itself out of formation with the rest of the orbital fleet and began its approach towards the _Battlestar_, her diminutive size allowing her to easily slide into the open maw of the warship's flight-pod.

"Excuse me, Madam President," Billy announced to his superior behind the desk, "we've arrived."

"Please don't tell me we have to go through this," Laura moaned as she tossed several files together before making ready to leave, "every time I step on that ship."

"No ma'am," her aide shrugged. "But they will always '_render honors_' for your arrival, as protocol."

"Let Adama sound the trumpets," she leered, throwing back her hair once for good effect to ensure she looked the part of President. "I think it makes him feel more comfortable. Maybe if he feels comfortable he'll be a little easier to deal with."

"That's smart," Billy smirked.

"No, it's politics," Laura grimaced. "But with the death of Admiral Nagala and every person on _Picon Fleet Headquarters_, Adama is the highest ranking individual left the military will listen to. He's got their ear and until then I have to patron to his whims to keep these Colonies protected. Now let's go be presidential..."

* * *

"Now do I have to remind you that President Roslin was the Secretary of Education prior to the death of their last leader," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss commented as she straightened Admiral Vonaka's dress coat for the twentieth time. "She won't follow most of the standard nuisances we can expected from the seasoned politician and don't be quick to take offense if and when she steps out of line."

"I will be the pinnacle of courtesy," the man smiled, all his crystal white canines showing.

"And don't flash your teeth," the communication officer scolded. "These Humans are a pre-contact society and may not react well to alien life-forms."

"Fine, fine," the man tried to wave her off, "I promise also not to feast on the blood of my foes in front of them or howl the Rites of Passage before their clergy. I know how to deal with diplomats."

"Without the use of a pulse cannon rifle?" the young woman asked.

"Would it hurt to bring one?" the question, while in jest, still gained him a death stare from the officer.

* * *

"I am confident that I speak for the entire human race when I say '_thank you_'," Laura's voice boomed over the flight-deck, an assembled group of officers and enlisted all gathered tightly together for her speech. "Without your extraordinary dedication, your tireless effort, your sacrifice, no one of us would be here today. I'm proud to serve as your president. Thank you."

Applause was half hearted and though Roslin had hoped to a more boisterous reaction from the crowd she knew that most were still on triple shifts to make up for those lost during the recent conflict.

Most of them were down here for another reason.

The arrival of the Space Guard envoy.

While it had been almost a week since these aliens came to the Colonies rescue at the hands of the Cylons, there had yet to be an official face to face with their leadership. Yes they had deployed hundreds of rescue personnel to the Colonies and continued to do so without asking for any sort of compensation but in that activity they had only shared a few short diplomatic exchanges over the wireless radios. Today was the day they finally had a sit down across the table and not through a loudspeaker.

"Madam President," Commander Adama ushered her off the stage in a formal manner not unlike this entire ceremony had been. "The alien shuttle is coming down the lift right now. I would again like to ask that we put a large contingent of soldiers on the deck for their arrival.

"I understand your concern, Commander," she humored him, "but from what we've seen in the battles last week, the Hegemony is far more technologically advanced then we are. I don't want to provoke them to war by putting a few more guns on the parade route. If you like you can allow your officer, Kara Thrace, attend, if you'd like some more trusted eyes in the room."

It was more a diplomatic then security gesture but the narrowing of the older man's eyes was enough to make her understand she was treading on thin ice.

"She is on extended patrol near the system's edge," Adama stared her down. "Let's hope she stays out of trouble until she returns."

* * *

The sun was rising, a towering beacon of blinding light that dominated the horizon for as far as the eye could see. It was breathtaking; awe inspiring and an artistic masterpiece, if it weren't for the _Anole_-class destroyer lodged into the clear crystal beach the entire scene would have been picture perfect.

From the observation portal Lawbaaut had an expansive view of the shoreline, waves washing onto the shore, the smoke clouds intermixing with the scorching red light burning on the horizon. He hated water, it was overwhelming and suffocating. His homeworld was cold, icy glaciers dominating all but a tenth of the land was open dirt… even then his people rarely ventured off the pack ice.

Water only ever existed in amount above puddles when something was seriously wrong, generally just before the glacier fields decided to rearrange themselves like they periodically did… resulting in whole cities sinking into the underground oceans of their homeplanet.

Being on a world where seventy-percent of the surface was dominated in never ending oceans of liquid death was something any Skartesh would find discomforting.

"_Sir_," Harrison flashed into life next to him, "_we have an incoming communication from Fleet Command. Captain Lora Yega'nh Vorn Relbbircsrebu XI is requesting your attention_."

"Patch him through," Lawbaaut nodded and a moment after the hologram dissolved another transparent body took its place. Captain Lawbaaut tried his best to smile. "Captain Relbbircsrebu, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"_You obviously know the reason for this call_," Lora returned the grin, though half-heartedly. "_I would like a status report on your vessel's condition_."

"We took some damage," Lawbaaut gestured to his surroundings, to try as he might emphasis the state of his vessel.

"_On this end we prefer to use the term 'heavy' damage_," Relbbircsrebu leered. "_Extensive hull loss, jettisoning of your AG-field core and your primary reactor, main plasma cannon flooded, eight dead and forty-eight people injured. Oh and did we forget to mention you crashed your ship_!"

"Sir, we faced down insurmountable odds," Lawbaaut defended. "_Caprica_ is the capital of the Twelve Colonies, of course the Cylons would launch heavy strikes against this world."

"_So are we blaming Admiral Volaska's command decisions_," Lora stared him down at the implication.

"Far from it," Lawbaaut grinned. "I just think as one ship meant to protect a high-value target I was allowed the appropriate leeway in my tactical decision making."

For a while Lawbaaut had to question if he was pushing the proverbial envelop with his assertions but finally Relbbircsrebu sighed in defeat.

"_Admiral Volaska made the same argument_," he admitted. "_He wants a full repair list by tomorrow and engineering crews will be at your position by the end of the afternoon. Your ship is to be totally operational in due time and Vonaka wants you space-borne and back with the fleet as soon as possible to make more of your appropriate tactical decisions. Relbbircsrebu out_... "

* * *

"This ship appears to have in the process of decommissioning not too long ago," Alhex commented as their shuttle pulled into the _Battlestar's_ hanger floor. "Most of her armor seems to have been stripped off and the bare scaffolding left untouched."

"_Galactic_ was meant to be a museum ship," Vonaka noted beside him as she paged through the diplomatic dossier that Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss had designed for him. "Two or three days earlier and she'd have been in permanent dry-dock and cannon fodder for the Cylons."

"Lucky them," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss sneered as their shuttle touched down on one of the hangar bay lifts, starting to make their descent into the vessel. "But I've seen the fully armed versions of these warships. Still ugly when their clothed."

The elevator came to a groaning halt, the carriage their shuttle had been atop easily merged into the floor as the crew made themselves ready.

"Remember they are a pre-contact society," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss reminded them yet again, gaining an eye roll from Alhex, "no sudden movements or you could end up with a weapon's round through the cranium."

"I could only hope," Moneti muttered under his breath.

The aft door of the _Cattalo_-class ship separated from its frame and slowly lowered itself to the ground, giving both parties a good look at the other. The Colonials couldn't help but stare, wide eyed and confused as one gold woman, a walking bear and a normal looking man descended the gangplank onto _Galactica_.

Flanked by a number of armed men, Alhex was already calculating threat assessments in his head while Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss was trying to foresee the next diplomatic emergency around the corner. Volaska on the other hand tried to keep his face impassive as possible as he approached the ruling female of this group.

"President Laura Roslin," he bowed the moment he was within a respectful range. "I am Sector Admiral Vonaka Volaska, out of Visha by Voya Volaska, representing the Hegemony member world of Wvonar and its people the Anchallian. On behalf of the Hegemony of Sentient Worlds I present warm welcomed from her highest, Empress Tal'mari Oreska and the Federal Senate of Member Races."

"Thank you, Admiral," she was obviously taken aback by the formality but quickly caught on. "On behalf of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, I humbly thank you for your people's actions in rescuing us from the Cylon menace. If you follow me, space has been graciously set aside by Commander Adama abroad his fine vessel for our use."

"Lead the way," Vonaka nodded, "madam."

And with that the two parties made their leave, a relieved communication officer thanking the heavens there hadn't been a diplomatic incident.

* * *

"Thank you," Kendra accepted the wrench from the crewman as she continued to try and stitch the main navigation computer back together. "Pass me the circuit board?"

_Pegasus_ CIC was just starting to come back together after the attack two days ago. Broken metal and spent glass still littered the floor and since repair crews were still focusing on critical systems they were going to be staying there for a long time.

"Here you go," the nearest officer, responded as he handed over the computer part, trying not to look when Admiral Cain came stomping into the command room.

"The sickbay just lost another two," she nodded towards Jurgen as she came to a stop across the plotting table from him, "That raises our casualties to what?"

"723," Belzen added up. "It's more than a quarter of our crew."

Breathing out at the death toll Cain changed the topic from personnel losses to material, "What's our fighter status?"

"Twelve _Vipers_ destroyed, one or two _Raptors_," her XO rattled off from the report he held in his hands. "Another seventeen ships too badly damaged to be repaired."

Cain seemed to pay the attention little to the report as she continued flicking the knife she held open and closed. "What else?"

Belzen didn't like it but he had to broach this topic to his commanding officer. "Sir, we've tried to keep a lid on what we learned from comm traffic before it stopped, but rumors keep leaking out."

"We need facts," Helena muttered, "not supposition."

"I agree," Jurgen said, "We're four, maybe five, plotted jumps back to the Colonies. I don't imagine you wanna risk the whole ship for a recon run?"

"Send two _Raptors_," Cain ordered. "Tell them not to engage the enemy. I want information only."

Belzen did as he was told and started to plot out the necessary jumps for the smaller ships.

"Ready to reboot nav and defense computer systems," Kendra's voice echoed through the CIC. "Stand by."

"Lieutenant," Cain said as she approaching her,

"Admiral," Shaw acknowledged as she pushed a hair out of her face, even if the mangle mess was too much to control. "The helms, weapons and FTL computer are back on line and I think I know how the Cylons took down our defense grid. These lines of code in the new navigation program were about to upload. They've been designed to create a backdoor that could enable an enemy to wirelessly access the program."

"That could introduce a virus that could affect the entire network," Cain surmised, "right?"

"Yeah," Shaw agreed, "Luckily, network control ordered ours offline barely two-minutes before the attack. I suggest that we keep it that way even after we've purged the program."

"All right, Lieutenant," the Admiral consented, "it's your ball. Run with it. Maybe you're not quite as useless as I thought. How long have you been at your station?"

The question caught Kendra off guard.

"I don't know, sir," she admitted. "I guess I just never left."

"You should consider getting rack time," Cain offered. "It's been almost a seven shift for you since the attack."

"Sir," Kendra's head waggled but as Cain turned to leave she called out. "Sir, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about the way I behaved when the nukes hit. I was scared. Actually, I was terrified, and I froze."

"You're not afraid anymore, are you, Lieutenant?" Helena asked.

"No," even if she was still exhausted Kendra still answered defiantly, "Sir."

"Good," Helena accepted, "You hold on to that charge and you keep it close. It will stop you from being afraid the next time. It'll tell you what to do. Lieutenant, button up."

Leaving the CIC and Lieutenant Shaw behind Cain moved through her ship, catching the sight of more than one worried face and concerned heart. The emotions had been running high among her crew and regardless if she was known as one of the fiercest Admirals in the fleet she still cared for her people.

It felt good to finally through herself onto her bed, to curl up on her pillows and next to the woman she loved.

"Your tense," Gina cooed as she massaged Helena's shoulders, releasing the coiled muscles in her back, "and that is saying a lot for you."

"Quiet," Cain laughed lightly. "So how are the repairs going?"

"Sub-light engine pod three is still jamming to port whenever we bring life support on deck six online but other than that nicely," she explained, as she laid down on the bed next to Helena. "But let's skip talking shop and just relax for ten minutes, I have my next shift in a bit."

"I remember how much you loved to talk about my ship," Cain laughed as the other woman playfully punched her in the shoulder.

"Your ship was the least of my attention when I came on board," Gina had to admit the obvious.

For a long moment the two remained silent, Helena dozing from a long day of work and Gina staring at her. Finally after a long silence the blonde spoke.

"Do you love me?"

Cain sat up on her shoulders and gave Gina and look before answering. "What else could I think when I look at you?"

But Gina had to continue to push, "Would you _love_ me if you knew what I was?"

"Gina, what are you talking about," Cain asked, concerned of where this conversation could be heading.

Now or never, Gina thought before throwing everything she held dear up in the air.

She wanted to keep her tongue in check, enjoy this moment for just a few seconds longer. Who did it hurt to live a lie, to enjoy the bliss of ignorance for just a little bit longer?

No that was selfish of her; Gina mentally kicked herself for just arrogant thoughts.

She was in love and loved, the matter of her creation would hold no merit in that category. After all the limits of human nature are disturbingly broad compared to those of a Cylon.

"I'm not human," she divulged, "I'm Cylon..."

* * *

"We first encountered the Cylons when they attacked, of all things, an archeological survey vessel that had been off course," Vonaka explained to President Roslin's inquiry. "From there we traced the aggressors back to their home fleet, captured it and then found out their intentions to the Colonies. Our charter states that we can make preemptive measures for the security of our local space so we intervened on your behalf."

"Well, Admiral," Laura smiled, "we are glad you did. Our best analysts state that without your aid, the Colonies would have been almost certainly destroyed. Even our more conservative members are bitter but ready to admit the same."

"And the Hegemony has committed itself to helping you rebuild after such a disaster," Volaska smiled. "Already the Federal Senate has authorized food and medical shipments to your worlds through the Centralized Crisis Organization along with several hundred rescue personnel to help relieve some of the workload your people are dealing with."

"I honestly don't know how we can ever expect to repay you," the President sighed. "Your officers have gone above and beyond in helping make Commander Adama's and my job a little easier every day."

"From what we saw above _Ragnar_," the aforementioned man added, "the Hegemony could have taken on the entire Cylon fleet with little help from us."

"Commander, let me be the first to say that your sacrifice and allegiance to your nation should be commended," Lieutenant Moneti quipped with a diplomatic smile. "Most Commanders would have cut and run. You on the other hand held your post and saved hundreds of thousands of souls from almost certain death. The Space Guard or the Hegemony had no effect on _that_ outcome."

"Survival cannot be assured by the thoughts of the individual for their own preservation, but through the communities commitment to a higher social calling," Vonaka echoed. "Those words were spoke three-thousand cycles ago by President Gregory Manchester when he signed the Declaration of Unification, formality joining the Solorian Federation of Sovereign Territories and the Holy Kintari Commune into the Hegemony of Sentient Worlds."

"Wise words," Adama accepted, "but we still have millions spread across the solar system and billions on the Colonies that are lost and confused."

"We have been compiling statistics and information on the condition of the Twelve Colonies since we arrived. If you would allow," Volaska nodded to the Colonials, "our officer leading such operations would like to present her data."

"By all means," Commander Adama accepted.

He had expected the young-gold elf to rise from her seat but instead it was Lieutenant Moneti that rose, strode across to the open floor between the Hegemony and Colonial delegations and placed a small device on the floor. Before either himself or the President could ask what as happening the small construct activated and a body flashed into existence.

"Alli report," the Admiral commanded, to which the hologram should have smirked at but as she lacked an emotional subroutine Alli only glanced at her superior.

"_As of this-"_

"What the frak is she suppose to be?" Tigh spat at the sight of the translucent hologram before him.

"_I am Artificial Linguistic and Logistic Intelligence 456239-19782 Shining Dawn 9834 Alpha_," the computer program reported with a diligent salute. "_The designated core artificial intelligence for the Space Guard heavy battle cruiser Victory of Triangular. Alli for short."_

_"_She's a frakking Cylon!"

* * *

"Your frakking with me aren't you," Helena laughed but the serious expression on Gina's face made her go quite a few seconds later. "So... now you're telling me... impossible… you're not a machine. I certainly would have noticed when we…"

"I'm a person, Helena" Gina exclaimed. "A woman!"

"A machine woman," Cain repeated, trying to comprehend the idea, "A synthetic woman. A robot. That's you? You're a new breed of Cylon?"

"The old breed is still around," Gina defended, though she wondered if it actually was helping the situation. "They have their uses, even in our society."

"Your society… no," Helena refused to believe what she was hearing. "I don't believe any of this. Prove it. Prove to me you're a Cylon. Right now!"

"I don't have to," she countered, "You know I'm telling the truth. I know how you think and when you think it. You believe me because deep down you've always known there was something different about me, something that didn't quite add up in the usual way."

The rage building inside of Helena was visible to Gina as the woman began to violently shake, "Cylons killed my father, took my sister, left my mother a broken husk of her former self. You and your kind attacked the Colonies, hundreds at the shipyards... how many more on the Colonies? This is all your FAULT!"

"No!" Gina yelled trying to make her see reason. "Believe me when I tell you this, we are not all bound by our programming. Sometimes we can fight it, sometimes we can go against our code!"

"And you expect me to believe a… a…. a machine!" Cain roared.

"Believe it because if it was a total machine we wouldn't be having this conversation right now," Gina calmly explained, "Do you wonder who ordered the navigation program offline while we were still stuck at the shipyard."

"What?" Cain almost fell off the bed in shock.

"The perk of being Senior System Analyst," Gina furthered. "I ordered the shutdown before the _Raiders_ could transmit the shutdown codes. I just couldn't bring myself to do it…to kill everyone…to kill you."

Slowly the pain, betrayal and anger began to fade away and the moment cooler heads began to prevail Helena started to talk again.

"Why were you sent?" she breathed through gritted teeth, "Was it to get close to me."  
"Actually, I was suppose to get close to Jurgen…you were considered too strong to fall for my ruse," Gina confessed bitterly. "You were never part of my plan… my mission… It was me that fell for you… not my programming. But now my programming is even gone."

"I'm not angry… I'm not angry… I'm livid… but I'm not angry…" finally when the rage began to subside again Cain started round two, "What changed? I mean that last time a Cylon went against its programming we got a year war out of it."

"Something happened, all I can only explain it as blinding pain and then" Gina paused as she remembered the moment she was her own person, tears starting to form in her eyes, "…I was free. The programming was gone, I could do as I wish, love as I want."

Model Sixes were designed for one thing, seduction. The only flaw in the their programming that resulted in many mixed results in their infiltration of the Colonies was sometimes that seduction became love. Cylon Command had been infuriated when more then eleven of their deep cover Sixes had refused the call to duty, even more when the undercover control system crashed unknowingly to Alli's handiwork, losing the chance to active the hidden Cylon programming in those that went rogue.

For a while Cain just stared at Gina with hard eyes but as the tears began to flow down her lover's face, her cold and hard demeanor began to crack.

"Do you love me?" the statement was simple but the answer was all the more critical.

"Infinitely," Gina nodded.

"And are you loyal to this crew?" Cain asked again.

"Of course!" the revealed Cylon preserved.

"Can help us protect ourselves against the Cylons?" Helena continued.

"As they say, the best defense is a good offense." The quote got a smile from both of them.

"Then get to work and I'll be waiting for you when you get back."

And with that Gina saluted, but Helena quickly pushed the hand out of the way and pressed her lips to her lover's. With a wide smile and a weight lifted off her shoulders Gina turned and walked confidently out the door.

With that Gina departed with a new lease on life. And she was going to use it.

* * *

"_I am_," Alli shrugged, though she did notice the heighten fear that raced through the three Colonial representatives. "_But this is per your very broad description of what a Cylon is. I however, do not subscribe to the Cylon's edict of genocide or mass murder. I am a trained Guard officer and member of her forces for over two decades._"

"Artificial intelligence," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss announced in her counterparts defense, "has been an accepted form of technology for thousands of cycles and in its founding charter, AI's are designated as sentient beings."

"She's a walking computer," Adama muttered, as he fixed a grievance eye onto the computer projection. "The threat that the Cylons could hack her-"

"_Is near impossible," _Alli finished the sentence before the Commander could continue._ "Several times during the recent fighting the Cylons attempt to take control of my systems and failed quiet frequently. My computer processing technology is several thousand cycles ahead of their own and my operating system is like nothing they've ever encountered. Even at my weakest, I'd still pull circles around the most advance Cylon computer."_

"Alli is a member of my crew," Vonaka made it as clear but un-intimidating as possible to the delegates on the other-side of the room, "and a sentient being under the laws of the Hegemony. I expect that she will be treated as such."

But the Colonel was having noting of it, already starting to rise from his seat.

"Like hell I'm-"

"Saul," one glare from his superior stopped his XO in his tracks. "Sit down."

With only a terrible glare back at the AI, Tigh reluctantly threw himself back into his seat.

"_Thank you Commander Adama," _ the computer expounded._ "As I was saying, the death toll estimates remains as such_, _Caprica, one billion, Aerilon nine hundred million, Picon eight hundred million, Gemenon six hundred million, Libran and Canceron haft a billion each, Leonis, Tauron and Virgon with four hundred million individually, Scorpia at three hundred million, Aquaria around two hundred million and Sagittaron escaping with the smallest death toll of one hundred and fifty million people. When tabulated together, that makes 6-billion, 150 million Colonial citizens killed in the Cylon attack_."

"The strike was well planned when you look at the Colonies they hit," Lieutenant Moneti continued. "_Aerilon_ is the food basket for almost sixty percent of your consumables. Nuclear attacks weren't meant to hurt the populous... they was intended to burn away most of the crops and livestock that sustained the people. Only after most of the farming lands on the southern continents were gone did they move onto the major population centers in the north. _Caprica_ on the other hand was more of a political and administration world. Cities that were hit directly contained government agencies, high-ranking offices and forms of social control that would have allowed organization in the face of war. _Picon_ on the other hand had the bulk of the military command structure in its orbit and a large amount of your communication systems on the ground."

"So you're saying we were too specialized," Tigh stared down the lieutenant. "So we were frakked because we put all our eggs in one basket."

"I'm not say-"

"It's no one's fault," Adama interrupted the brawl before it could start. "We built on what the Colonies had before the first Cylon War, it's been making the same mistakes for years now and it came back to bite us in the ass."

"Rescue and recovery is underway all over the Colonies," Laura said, "but already we are seeing the aftermath. Medical supplies are almost non-existent on _Caprica_ and _Aerilon_, while _Sagittaron _is starting to see food riots and violence. I hate to ask but military force may be necessary to keep our people from killing each other."

"The Space Guard was designed as a peacekeeping force," Alhex noted, "but we were designed to keep the peace, not enforce it. I know it seems like a good idea but civilization at the muzzle of a rifle is bound to fail."

"My lieutenant is correct," Vonaka nodded. "The Hegemony will provide defensive and rescue elements to your worlds but diplomacy, not aggression, will help your people survive."

"_Virgon_ is the only colony left with enough infrastructure to start rebuilding on its own," Tigh explained, "but after the death of their entire executive cabinet the people voted emergency powers to the last of the old royal family who ruled before the Articles of Colonization was signed. Newly crowned King Kumara is refusing to allow any refugee ships of non-Virgonese patronage to land. How the hell to do you propose to get him off his ass and helping everyone else?"

"From what I understand the Virgonese are dealing with some serious refugee problems," Vonaka consulted his holographic data-pad for sure. "Over six hundred ships, close to two-million people are crowded into the Colony's orbit, each one requiring fuel, food and logistic support."

"No offense," Moneti added amicably, "but Kumara already has allowed close to double that to already land on _Virgon_… resource wise they can barely support anymore as it is and the population is at a hair's breadth from rioting. Adding anymore faces could cause the locals to run amok."

"I believe there is a solution," Vonaka postulated to the assembly. "When Captain Relbbirscrebu's fleet launched they chartered two _Macross Island_-class colony ships to help during the initial relief efforts. They're a bit slow so they're just about to reach the edge of the solar system but I think they certainly could remove some of the pressure and get those civilians into some better conditions."

"And how much space does that give us," Tigh grumbled. "Five… maybe six-thousand people at best.

"_Macross Island_-class colony ships," Moneti explained, clicking a few buttons on his personal wrist comm and projecting a hologram of the diamond shaped starship, "were designed when the Hegemony became so large we began to colonize other galaxies and required multipurpose, large scale starships to transport populations over immense distances to not only establish settlements but every facet of an empire to survive in a region of space far from our central government. _Macross Islands_ weren't designed to carry a few thousand… or a few hundred thousand… a fully loaded _Macross Island_ carries a domed environment, complete with oceans, mountains and cities… over 15-kilometers in length and able to hold over 5-million sentients."

Stunned silence reigned before anyone on the Colonial side of the table began to speak.

"That's… more than adequate…" Roslin breathed out slowly. "It's… it's everything…"

"Now onto the diplomatic front," Vonaka wasn't about to show pity for these people or make them feel like they owed the Hegemony something… switching to another topic was the best tactic. "The Hegemony has over a million member races, we have extensive experience in multiple forms of diplomacy. We have several communication specialists like Ensign Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss here who could work to resolve the situation with _Virgon_ or contact can be established with _Magellenic Stellar Command_ for a more seasoned ambassador to attend."

"I have numerous years of training both from the Hegemony Diplomatic Corp and field work in the Federal Senate," the young woman explained. "If you like I could liaison with your offices madam President as a non-bias party for internal Colonial disputes."

"That could work," Laura concurred. "Kumara has been responsive to the Hegemony officers stationed on his Colony."

"Now wait a minute," Tigh interrupted, "if you can have an officer stationed among our government then we should be allowed the same among your people."

"The Colonel has a point," Adama endured his formers outburst with a practice smile, "if you would allow Admiral we would like to have a military observer among your staff."

"A fair proposal," Vonaka accepted. "Do you have an officer in mind?"

* * *

_Ragnar_ may have been a titan among the four gas giants that dominated the outer _Cyrannus_-system but nothing compared with the exotic beauty of _Vanir_. Violent storms stirred her fluorine atmosphere, creating waves of hot pink and rolling purple that screamed against the dark blackness of space.

"This is Skin-diver Five-Six-One, Kicker, to base," a single fighter skimmed through the clouds, leading two trails of coral colored gas streaking behind it as her wings cut through the clouds. "I have an unidentified Cylon unit on my sensors, decaying orbit along southern polar region of _Vanir_. Energy profile corresponds to a _Heavy_ _Raider_. Detecting life support is online but radiation discharge responds to heavy damage. Requesting permission to investigate?"

"Confirmed Kicker," the voice of an unknown flight control officer greeted him through his helmet. "You have confirmation from _Allegiance_ command to pursue."

Since the _Dynamic_ had gone down over _Caprica_ and was most likely going to be staying their for the foreseeable future, most of her fighter squadrons had been pushed over onto other ships in the 95SpineαǼ. Since many were already fully crewed and staffed it meant the eighty-four pilots spread over four squadrons were having to cram themselves in for space.

Thutmose-squadron had been regaled to the _Justice_-class missile frigate _Unshattered_ _Allegiance_, a vessel not even designed to carry fighters. They were current living out of a storage closet that had been renamed very generously as a barracks and storing their birds in a cargo bay that doubled as the food-storage locker.

That was probably why Kicker had been volunteering for these long recon patrols around the solar system. Being stuck in a cockpit for nine-hours seemed so much better then sitting atop of crate of Venusian peaches with nothing to do.

He almost found the cataloguing of yet another piece of space debris to be all the more interesting, even if it was probably going to be a burned out hulk about to drop head-first into the atmosphere.

That is until his console began to alert of him of several new contacts inbound.

"This is Skin-diver Five-Six-One, Kicker, to Allegiance control," he announced. "I have two incoming contacts. Signature is definitely a pair of Cylon _Raiders_. They're making a beeline for the damaged Heavy Raider. I think they don't want to share the prize... "

Suddenly Kickers controls began to go wild. Whatever had caught the computer's attention was sending his system into overdrive. It took a few seconds of diligent operation before he finally got the answer he was looking for from the proximity sensors.

"Base, Kicker," he shouted. "My _Heavy_ _Raider_ is alive and running. She's turned tail and seems to be running from her friends."

"Understood Kicker," the voice again sounded. "We have two Colonial _Vipers_ in your airspace. They will move to intercept the _Raiders_. Concentrate on the heavy unit."

"Validated base," Kicker said. "I'm breaking atmosphere now."

Peeling his nose up, the _Skin_-_diver_ soared upward through the cloud cover and into open space, like an old-style rocket lifting off.

Several hundred-kilometers away from Kicker, eight _Vipers_ and two _Raptors_ continued on with their patrol. Battered and scarred from their previous encounters with the Cylons only a few days ago, the staggering loss of pilots among their ranks had left many officers of their caliber in high demand and heavy service.

Already this particular patrol had been on the rim of the solar system for ten hours straight.

"All right people, we've been out here for almost a day," Apollo shouted into his wireless radio as he brought his fighter to the front of the group. "Boomer, Starbuck, form up with me. We'll fly CAP. I want everyone else back on _Galactica_ and in their racks. Three-hour rotation."

Six _Vipers_ and one of the _Raptors_ broke formation and quickly made full burn for the tiny speck of light in the distance that would guide them home. In the interim a pair of the fighters and one of its bulk-brown guardians continued their route pass the nearest gas giant that dotted the outer Colonial star system.

"Hey, Apollo," Starbuck laughed over his speakers, "not that I'm not honored by being chosen to sit in my cockpit for the next three hours, but-"

"But why you?" Apollo smirked.

"Mmm," a sarcastic response returned his question.

"Take a guess," Apollo grinned.

"Cause I'm not on drugs?" Kara giggled.

"You got it," Apollo chuckled, "this patrol is one hundred percent not stimulated."

It was no lie that with their numbers stretched so thin most officers and pilots had to pull triple, even quadruple shifts to make up for the losses that had endured in the recent week. To offset the crushing workload and terrible lack of sleep, stimulants were being thrown out like candy to keep everyone awake and doing their job. But the down fall to that idea was while people could work longer, many became nervous, irritable and careless.

Apollo wanted every pilot on stimulants to get the rest they so desperately needed, deserved and wanted but at the same time keep them out of the cockpit. While he could not speak for their Raptor crew, he knew Kara was the one person in his squadron that would refuse the pills to the end.

"Does anyone else feel like they have frakkin' ants crawling behind their eyeballs?" Crashdown now chimed in from the remaining _Raptor_ tailing them.

"Hey, how about you, Boomer?" Apollo quizzed, "Doc tells me you're holding up better than anybody in the squadron."

"I'm tired," Boomer tried to be humble over the wireless, "like everybody else. You never seem it."

"'Cause she's a Cylon," Starbuck joked from her cockpit.

"You're just gonna make me come over there and kick your ass," Boomer grinned behind the glass of her _Raptor_. "Aren't you?"

"Okay, okay, let's set up a patrol here before somebody gets hurt," Apollo finally broke the chatter. "Follow me."

"Sir!" the laugher and banter froze the moment Boomer's suddenly urgent voice chirped over the comms. "Incoming communication from a local Guard fighter."

"What's the problem?" Starbuck quipped as she brought her _Viper_ into alignment with Apollo's.

"Two _Raiders_ and a _Heavy Raider_, CBDR," Boomer reported the constant bearing/decreasing range of the incoming fighters, "bearing 145, carom 33."

"Isn't their standard wedge formation," Kara was the first to notice the strange formation the inbound Cylons had taken, the _Heavy_ _Raider_ was spinning and dodging, like it was trying to escape the _Raiders_ behind it.

"It looks like a pursuit," Adama noticed, "and there's been weapons exchange between them."

Weapons fire between three Cylon ships, which meant only one thing to Thrace, "A pursuit?"

"Looks like," Apollo grimaced. "Boomer, Crashdown, hang back and provide feedback. Starbuck, lets crash this party."

The _Vipers_ closed in on the Cylon firefight as the _Raptor_ hit the bow thrusters and came to a speeding halt. Not a fair distance away the two _Raiders_ sailed behind a _Heavy Raider_, unsuccessfully trying to shot the leading craft down.

"What the frak is this Apollo," Starbuck said as the _Vipers_ finally reached visual range of the combat.

"I don't know but let's try to use this to our advantage," Apollo strategized.

Sneaking up behind the two _Raiders_ both of the fighters never seemed to notice the Colonial's arrival. They were too preoccupied trying to seize their prize.

The moment a clean shot was within their grasp the two pilots opened fire. Both _Raiders_ realized too late their folly and the pair swerved to avoid. One of the fighters exploded in a tiny pop, its left wing disappearing into fire as a splash of blood sprayed across Starbuck's cockpit. Apollo's _Raider_ reacted faster, its aft engine burst into a cloud of smoke as the fighter lunged out of his firing arc.

His _Viper_ broke from formation, going after the escaping _Raider_ as Starbuck now had only the _Heavy Raider_ to finish off.

_Heavy Raiders_ were a duel function transport and attack craft, sporting a six cannon gun under the cockpit area and two rotatable missile launchers she was a deadly craft to deal with. More independent then a _Raider_, they could be piloted by either a Centurion or a humanoid Cylons and were far more versatile then their smaller counterparts.

It was their independence that made it the prime escape vehicle for Caprica-Six to use.

Six banked the _Heavy Raider_ to the side, avoiding another attempt by the Colonial _Vipers_ to put a bullet up her tail pipe. Her foray was in cybernetic infiltration and seduction, not piloting. Just keeping the ship from flying apart was testing her skills as she continued to run down the wireless frequencies.

"_Krypter, krypter, krypter_," Caprica pressed the comm. button down again as she frantically pulled the _Heavy Raider_ into another spin. "_I repeat this Heavy Raider 8329 to alien warship Victory, requesting asylum offered by the AI construct Alli. Heavy Raider 8329 requesting a cessation of hostile fire now! Krypter, krypter, krypter, this is Cylon Raider 8329 to Victory. Krypter, krypter, krypter, Alli are you there?"_

Onboard the _Allegiance_ Communication Specialist Sabrine Leblanc cycled the message through the translator a second time, just to make sure she had it right.

"Sir, I can confirm," she announced to her superior, "the _Heavy Raider_ is definitely declaring a state of emergency. Voice appears to be female... and requesting to speak to Alli."

"Forward it to the _Victory_ immediately," Captain Kilhagen Phaleon ordered, the Kazon officer leaning in over her shoulder.

Tachyon arrays synced themselves and information was exchanged between the frigate and it's command ship faster than most people could blink. Seven seconds later and seven hundred million kilometers onward Commander Upsalon listened to the recording repeat as Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss played it again, still not totally believing it herself.

"You mind telling me why a Cylon ship is asking for you?" the Commander asked towards his holographic officer.

"_I make friends wherever I jack in_," the AI shrugged. "_She's the Cylon I mentioned before that helped me gain access to the jump frequencies of the Cylon Raiders_."

"Then she deserves better tract then blowing her out of the sky," Upsalon nodded.

* * *

"They don't trust us," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss muttered, "even after we saved their lives."

The meeting between the Colonial and Hegemony envoys had come to an abrupt and not altogether disliked pause, both groups spent little time on pleasantries before retreating to their respective corners to whisper among themselves.

"Who could blame them?" Alhex hissed. "They were just attacked, a fifth of their people wiped out and their on the disadvantage while we help them without declaring a price. I would be wary too."

"President Roslin seems inclined to us," the young woman said, "while this Colonel Tigh is openly hostile. Adama however is neutral to our involvement.

"He's an honor bound man," Volaska surmised, "he won't go against us as long as we keep his people's best interest at heart. Alli how it is going back on _Victory_?"

"_Crew reports nominal status_," the AI had projected herself over towards the group. "_But we had another whisper near Ragnar. We have drones en-route but it looks like the Cylon's are probing our defenses. This has been their eighteenth attempt since they retreated_."

"Keep us appraised of the situation," Vonaka ordered. "If we have any serious contact I want to be informed."

"_Yes, sir_," the AI bowed before blinking out.

Their conversation however did not resume immediately as the sound of the bulkhead door grinding on its hinges took the Guard officer's full attention.

"Commander you wanted to see me," Felix Gaeta asked, his voice a bit quiet as he realized he was suddenly surrounded by the President, the Commander and Colonel Tigh.

"Mr. Gaeta," the older man smiled, First of all let me just say how grateful I am that you pulled through this ordeal intact."

"Thank you sir," Felix said, knowing that he was less intact then before and still not sure if he was whole. But the fact that he yearned to return to his job kept the knowledge that he now had an inch long computer lodged in his brain to himself. "I can't wait to get back to duty now that Doctor Cottle has cleared me."

"About that," the corners Adama's lips dipped down, "We would like to send a liaison over to work with the Guard officers, to keep an eye on Colonial issues."

"Sir?" Gaeta was floored, a feeling he was starting to get use to, "why me?"

"I've taken note of your connects within the Hegemony," Laura explained, "You spent some time in their medical facilities. You are already versed in several of their customs and basic technologies, which gives us a better chance to keep a diplomatic incident from happening between our respective peoples."

"Sir, I don't think I am qualified," Felix protested, "I am a tactical officer, not a diplomat. And I was unconscious the entire time I was abroad."

"Then take it as a recommendation from me," his commanding officer asked, rubbing his weary eyes. "You're an intelligent man whose observant nature is going to be your greatest asset. In the mean time I say you keep in contact with President Roslin on any major issues but trust your instincts."

"Okay sir, if you insist," the younger man relented.

"Admiral Volaska," Adama called out and quickly a towering shadow slide over Gaeta's form.

He looked up and tried to contain the fear rising in his chest as a walking bear-like creature now looked down at him with startling golden eyes.

"I would like you to meet with Lieutenant Moneti," Adama said as waved to Felix, "he will be acting as the Colonial military liaison to your crew."

"Lieutenant," the alien bowed and for a second Felix forgot himself before finally returning the same. "I would like to introduce my tactical officer Lieutenant Alhex Moneti. He will be working with you as your guide and escort while you on board our vessel."

On command a man few inches taller than himself appeared before him, his black hair spiked at several impossible angles and two piercing grey eyes staring at him with mild annoyance.

"I will look forward to working with you," the man nodded, those his demeanor screamed he was anything but the sort.

"Not that this is underway," Volaska clapped his hands together, "how about we recess before discussing the delivery of those fallout scrubbers to your worlds... "

* * *

Six pitched the _Heavy Raider_ up but it wasn't fast enough to avoid another shot from the crack _Viper_ pilot. Her engines sputtered and died, sending the ship spinning. In the blank void, friction was negated with the lack of air. With nothing to slow it Caprica became nauseated as inertia carried the craft into a dangerous roll as she somehow managed to kick the maneuvering thrusters to compensate.

The port thrusters counteracted the twisting ships course and managed to bring her back together, leaving Six fighting to keep her lunch down. However in her hast to solve her problem she found her _Heavy Raider_ drifting with an oncoming _Viper_ rounding up for the kill shot.

She would have made peace with God right now but as impending death approached she couldn't move, think or even blink. All she could do was watch her own death coming.

"_This is Victory to Colonial Vipers, stand down_," a voice commanded over her comms. "_Repeat Heavy Raider is responsive, stand down. Inbound is friendly, repeat inbound is friendly_!"

"Frak me," Starbuck cursed. She would have easily ignored the order and blown the bastard machine out the sky by the sudden appearance of a _Skybolts_ on her wings. Knowing that by know her chance to get another kill today had evaporated she peeled her _Viper_ off and headed back to safe distance.

In her wake the Guard fighter fired a small bucking cable, latching onto the listing _Heavy Raider_ and beginning the long process of pulling the wrecked ship towards the approaching _Allegiance_. Even if Six had wished her landing to be more graceful the moment the docking bay's anti-gravity field kicked in her ship hit the deck hard.

Sudden gravity caught Six off-guard as the ship bounced hard, the whiplash sending her forehead into the chrome pilot's station. The recoil was enough to leave even her Cylon enhanced anatomy reeling and a unconscious Caprica on the floor.

Quite a few hours later her eyes fluttered open to find a pair holographic eyes staring down at her.

"Well it's good to see you again," Caprica muttered.

Even though the AI showed no emotion her eyebrows still quirked up. "_Your sarcasm is intact, that is a good sign. But in the meantime, welcome to the Guard starship Victory of Triangulum._"

And for the first time in a while Caprica-Six actually felt safe.

* * *

Felix had to keep his jaw from dropping every time they turned a corner but somehow it just kept happening. This alien ship made even a brand new _Mercury_-class _Battlestar_ look like a garbage tug. Doors rolled out of the way without a sound, hovering robots that did your every whim and a self-aware computer core that was currently acting as his tour guide.

"What class of ship is the _Victory_ considered?" he asked like a school child lost in the museum.

"_The Victory of Triangulum is an Ares-class heavy battle cruiser,_" Alli explained as he led the Colonial delegate deeper into the ship, "_one of the first thousand of her class to roll off the assembly line. She is the eighteenth ship to be christened with the name after the Battle for Triangulum Sierra during the Kilrathi Conflict six-hundred cycles ago, when the felines attempted to annex our first colonies in the Triangular Galaxy and sparked two decades of war_."

"Is she a newer or older design?" Gaeta inquired. "I mean _Galactica's_ over forty-years old and she's still considered average for our fleet."

"_Ares' are one of the newest designs being fielded and tested by the Space Guard_," Alli continued as she projected beside him, "_on a trial rating for the next decade before she is up for review. If her design is considered applicable then she will enter mass production_."

"Mass production?" Felix managed in confusion. "You just said she was the first thousand and this class is on a test run."

"_When you consider the space of three galaxies_," Alli offered, "_and numerous satellite clusters our empire is spread over, the fleets of the Hegemony need to be consistently cycled out, rebuilt and older classes replaced. Victory was constructed at the shipyards over the Federation colony of Donavan on a contract with Jovian Jefferies Wharfs. As pre there design our tactical load out is second to none, with forty forward magnetic acceleration missile tubes and an additional twenty aft, we are able to fire warhead salvos every ten seconds. Paired with these are three primary plasma cannons in our frontward firing arc and two minor defensive cannons to cover the aft, starboard and port arcs. Taking over the defensive aspects our point defense lasers are able to target, cycle and fire at eight rounds per second, effective against nearly all psychical based projectile weaponry and capable to adapt specifically for great combat effectiveness to whatever type of ordinance is fired. To counter energy based attacks our cold fusion Neo-steel armor is designed to dissipate energy up to fifty terawatts pre-meter without micro-fractures and as more heat is applied the armor constricts and tightens, becoming stronger up to several-thousand degrees Kelvin_."

"She's a beast!" he almost gasped, acquiring a hint of approval from the AI.

"_Here we are_," she exclaimed, happy to be rid of her duty and retreat back into the main computer core. "_Deck sixteen, cabin 12-E. Lieutenant Alhex Kenlann Moneti should be in_."

And with that she flickered out of existence, leaving a confused Felix standing in a empty hallway.

_Well better do something_, he admitted to himself and with a little hesitation he raised his hand and knocked on the door.

"Come in!" a muffled voice called from behind the barrier.

"Hello?" Gaeta asked as he ventured further into the Lieutenant's quarters. He had to envy the Guard, they sure didn't believe in the barracks like living space that you found on most Colonial ships. Obviously creature comforts were important to the Hegemony.

"Give me a minute!" a far off voice yelled as the sound of running water echoed out of sight. "In the shower!"

Alhex's quarters were Spartan at best, outside a bed, desk, two chairs and a single picture frame on the desk it was lacking in almost all forms of decorum.

One thing in particular caught his attention, the large; transparent screen of some-kind that floated on the farthest wall of the room. Reaching out to test if it was a solid material only proved it wasn't and that it was also touched activated.

"_ISNnews_," a commanding voice loudly presented as the screen changed to show some kind of news program coming back from a commercial break, "_bringing you news from across the Hegemony and beyond. With your anchors Sset LaMarcheberg and West Digga_."

"_Continuing our coverage of the Crisis on Gehenna_," West Digga announced, Gaeta guessing as much from the scrolling bar bellow the human male's face provided, "_the Jessuin empire have blockaded the colony world in protest over the trade embargo placed on them last year by the Hegemony. This was a result of the Jessuin's drug trade of tropolisine, ketracel and sugar, along with the recent raids of the Snathi's and Paulos' homeworlds_."

"_Kodh Kritter, Arch-Director of the Jessuin Coalition_," Sset LaMarcheberg reported as the tentacles on the Decapodian's mouth quivered while he spoke, "_has stated the colony while remain blocked off until the Hegemony compensates the Coalition for credits lost due to their collapsing economy. Guard forces are already moving into position to counteract this invasion of our space and the Jessuin have announced any direct military engagement will be an act of war_."

"_For those sentients unaware," _Digga continued,_ "Gehenna is the capital of the State of Gehenna, a separate colonial entity from the Solorian Federation settled by those humans of primarily Judaic religious faith. Since its establishment eight-hundred cycles ago the planet has grown to over 800-million residents, primarily human and human-derived sentients and of the Jewish faith_. _Though not officially declared, Gehenna is the largest Jewish population center outside of the Sol-system and Earth._"

The glowing screen suddenly changed as the voice of Digga continued to speak, this time a spinning star icon with the words '_latest'_ appeared across its face. "_We break omni-net now and take you live to Guard destroyer HSS Commonwealth of Tears deep inside the Cyrannus solar system where Hegemony forces have engaged in rescue operations on behalf of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. Linda Renee reporting_."

"_Disaster, calamity, massacre_," a young blonde woman reported, a background of a devastated world perfectly placed behind her to enhance that point. "_Here in the Cyrannus system that is what the citizens of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol are calling the sudden and devastating attack against their homeworlds by the Cylon nation yesterday_."

"_I was on a transport out of Virgon when we were hit, a Battlestar managed to drive the Raiders off but_... " a man in burned rags cried, a microphone pushed into the frame to caught every word, "_my family never knew, they never knew to run. Their all_... "

"_While there has been no statement yet_," Linda continued, a montage of the Colonial homeworlds flashed across the screen, "_from the Advisory Council or the Congressional Dome of the Solorian Federation on the matters it is expecting that humanity will be weighing heavily in on the situation in the Colonies. In the mean time the Hegemony Senate has pledged over forty tetra-tons of emergency relief supplies, expected to arrive via a convoy out of Sihanouk by the end of the week_."

"_Death tolls among the Colonials worlds are staggering, with over six-billion deaths and half their military forces gone. Forty-two of the one hundred twenty Battlestars, as their warships are called, have been destroyed with an establish 103-thousand officers and enlisted perishing. Currently following the deaths of President Richard Adar and Attorney General Mara Chao_," Renee explained as the screen switched back to her, "_former Secretary of Education Laura Roslin had been sworn in as the new President. Until such time as the legislative branch or Quorum is re-established, this leaves President Roslin as the sole member of the executive branch in power. From the Cyrannus-solar system, this is Linda Renee reporting for ISNnews_."

The screen returned to Digga and LaMarcheberg as the Decapodian took the lead, "_In continuing headlines, Mars will be hosting next cycle's Olympics Games for the Orion Arm_—"

The screen however cut off as Gaeta heard a gruff; annoyed voice behind him, "Finding everything all right?"

Gaeta jumped almost a foot in the air. He hadn't heard the shower finish or the Guard officer approaching but before he knew it the other man was standing barely ten feet behind him.

"Sorry!" he quickly apologized, "I didn't mean to go through your things I just-"

The words caught in Felix's throat as he found himself staring at a complexly naked Guard officer.

Rubbing a towel and only a towel through his hair as Alhex watched the Colonial stumble for words.

"I see Colonials still have social taboos with against nudity," he commented after a Felix still stared open mouth at him.

"Well it's just indecent," Gaeta stumbled, "and you... we don't just walk around like... can you just put some clothes on!"

Alhex couldn't understand what was so wrong with these people.

They were so repressed, fearful and uptight about everything. Back home nudity, sexuality, even polygamy were common in most part of the Hegemony. When you consider an empire with over a million different member species, where it was normal for some species to have two sexes… three… mass spawning orgies as a form of reproduction, you have to throw your preconceptions of what gender was out the window and embraces an ever-evolving concept of sexuality.

But then again Gaeta was from a pre-contact society; almost every other member of the Hegemony had to go through the same thing at one point in their contact with their realm.

"Fair enough," Alhex offered as he moved off to start getting ready. A few minutes later Moneti pulled on his black and red leather officer's jacket of a tactical specialist.

"Better?" he asked to Felix who had spent the time staring intently at the farthest wall from Alhex.

Turning around Gaeta nodded as noticed the smirk on the Guard officers face, almost like he was enjoying the uncomfortable reaction in Felix.

"Follow me," he ordered as he walked out of the quarters and into the hallway, with Gaeta in tow. "Now, while you are onboard the _Victory_ you have access to all crew facilities, within reason. Main engineering, armory and mission critical sectors are off limits without permission. These areas are marked and you will be warned if you enter them. Command and Control is the only sector you are allowed to enter but if we are in combat operations you will be required a security escort or senior officer to enter. Understood?"

"Yes," Gaeta nodded but all this was so confusing to him.

Seeing this bewilderment Alhex lightened his mode a bit. "Now are there any questions I can answer for you?"

"Well you're the first human looking face I've seen onboard this whole ship," Felix confessed, "I'm just glad to have something familiar."

"Yeah," Alhex grimaced, "_human_-looking. The Hegemony is made up of over a million races spread over three galaxies and as part of developing a greater sense of community and understanding about our interdependence on each other the Space Guard was created so that member states could contribute to the protection of the empire. The 95SpineαǼ has over six hundred species serving in her ranks; the _Victory_ has around four hundred and eighty of those. We have crew-members from all over the known worlds ranging from hydrogen to oxygen atmospheres and aquatic, high gravity, land based or zero-g environments."

"So many, how do you make it work?" Gaeta asked but when he received a quirked eyebrow at the comment the Colonial tried to explain better. "I mean we fight all the time over the most trivial stuff and we're all the same species."

"Originally it didn't," Alhex confessed, "the Coalition of Free Worlds was the first attempt by the founding ten members of the empire. The Solorian Federation, Kintari Commune, Than-Thre-Kull, Kaldera Alliance, Hiiraganian Kith, Commonwealth of Nira, Union of Thandar, Chichin Empire and Tiadan Lords originally tried to create a government based on mutual alliances and free trade. Unfortunately they failed to realize they were part of a unified nation by only coming together in the name of war or money. It lasted only for a hundred and fifty years before civil war erupted and the Coalition fell apart. It would be almost four hundred years before anyone tried that concept again. In the end it was decided that in order to join a member must be willing to take on the laws of whole, respect the cultural boundaries of other races and to understand that only as one can we survive on an inter-galactic scale."

"Now this is some basic information on the Hegemony and _Victory_," Alhex announced as he changed gears, handing over flexi-pad to Gaeta, "you should cover the section on basic Guard protocol and etiquette. In the mean time we are to report to C&C for the morning debriefing and hopefully... what the hell are you doing?"

"What is this thing?" Felix asked as he actually turned the flexi over and shook it, as if its scrolling holo-screen would fall off.

"It's a flexi," Alhex explained again as he removed the object from Gaeta's hands and began to demonstrate how to use it, "a flexible plastic computer sheet. They are found all over the Hegemony and are used for collation and process of information for those people without a neural implant or enjoy the tactile sensation of reading and writing. Since you lack a neural implant this is the only way to learn about our people. Now back to the morning debrief... "

* * *

It was raining, it was always raining.

The skies were always in a down pour and no matter how much Helo tried to cover his head, the wetness just seeped deeper into his flight suit. Even the cliff they had pressed themselves under still allowed several small trickles of water to drip overhead and no matter how much he tried to make himself melt into the wall it just wasn't enough to stay dry.

Beside him Boomer withdrew a needle from the field kit and pressed the sharp syringe into the crock of her neck, grimace in pain as the sharp arrow sliced into her skin. Anti-radiation medication was designed for one thing, to block and resist the absorption of radiation into the tissue, primarily into the thyroid gland. However its almost immediate side-effect was nausea and the intense pain around the injection sight. While only one in three cases got both at the same time, Sharon was unlucky enough to be that shining statistic. In her haste to get the entire procedure over with she almost dropped the instrument on the ground.

"Sharon, careful with that needle. We're running low on anti-radiation meds," he chided her, before slowly handing over one of his rations. "Not really mom's home-cooking."

"Yeah?" she smiled up at him. "Beats eating grass and leaves."

"We'll be cooking up a fine meal of twigs and moss by the end of week," Helo grinned at her, until he smiled dropped. "Can I ask you something, Sharon? Why'd you come back for me?"

"I hate to fly alone," the woman said in jest.

"C'mon... you disobeyed orders, flew back into this hellhole... " Helo assessed out loud. "I mean, not that I don't appreciate it but... why?"

"I just couldn't leave you behind," Sharon was becoming irritated and the tension rose in the air almost three-fold. "Let's leave it at that."

There was something she wasn't saying and Agathon was about to press the issue when the sound of crackling static caught him off guard.

"What is it?" Sharon asked.

"It's Colonial Fleet's signal," Helo could even try to help and contain his happiness. "I... I can't decode it but it means there's someone."

"Someone in the military is still somewhere live and kicking here," she laughed, "Ha, ha! Yes!"

"Now all we have to do is find them..."

* * *

The CIC was tense as Commander Adama, President Roslin and Admiral Volaska entered in through one of the pyramid shaped doors, all disheveled from being interrupted during the height of their political discussions.

"Sitrep!" the commander yelled the moment he was through the door.

"_Baseship_ inbound at high speed," Tigh confirmed as he updated the latest navigation tables. "Bastards practically jumped right on top of us."

"Sir," Dualla shouted out, "I have communications from _Tartarus_ and six other _Battlestars_ waiting for orders. Guard units are asking to speak to Admiral Volaska as well."

"Civilian fleet is spooling up their FTL drives, sir," Kelly added. "Preparing to jump to emergency stand-by coordinates on your command."

"Do it," Laura ordered and though Kelly cast his eyes behind her to Commander Adama the moment he got a nod of approval he began issuing the orders.

"My ships are moving into position now," Vonaka surmised as he pressed a communicator he had withdraw from his belt to his ear. "Our CAP is already on intercept and two of our frigates are two minutes to flanking them."

"Good," Adama nodded. "Stand by to launch _Vipers_. Have the CAG circle back and hold for further orders."

Another set of alarms began to scream in the CIC and officers began to respond even faster.

"What is that?" Roslin asked, as enlisted personnel began to rush around her in a frenzy of fearful motion.

"Radiological arm," Tigh shouted. "They're launching nukes."

"Space Guard frigate is moving to intercept," Dualla called out as all eyes turned towards the dradis screens, watching in silent desperation as one of the Hegemony warships threw itself directly into the line of fire.

"_Basestar_ is firing!" Kelly called out from the farthest edge of the CIC.

The _Outcast of Consensus_, a _Justice_-class missile frigate, nearly burnt out its engines and AG-field but it managed to get into position just soon enough to take three nuclear missiles to its bow. The frigate was throttled to its side, several sheets of broken Neo-steel armor tore away like shattered flakes in the wind. The vessel however quickly righting itself in time to bring most its point-defense turrets to bear, catching another four missiles before they could impact with the planet below.

"Space Guard frigate has established flak perimeter," Kelly yelled out after a beat. "_Commonwealth of Tears _has established a firing solution… their firing."

The destroyer had its target and a surgical blast of its plasma cannon managed to completely remove the Cylon _Basestar_ from existence.

"_Battlestar Bellerophon_ reports visual confirmation," Specialist Dualla announced as she pressed the speakers of her communicator to her ears. "Cylon _Basestar_ is destroyed…"

* * *

"A communications relay?" Fisk commented at the pile of recon photos. "That looks more like some kind of frakked up can opener."

"From what we can tell," Shaw said beside him, pushing a few of the way to one in particular that showed the fighter patrols are the installation, "it's guarded by a half dozen _Raiders_."

"So?" Fisk asked, it wasn't anything big.

"They don't expect anyone to attack it," Admiral Cain said as she entered the officer's dining room. "Gentlemen, you're looking at our first target on the road home. Nice work finding it, Lieutenant."

"Thanks," Kendra accepted but not totally, "but I had help." As if on cue Gina entered, her face lighting up as her eyes searched out and found Helena.

"Speak of the angel," Cain welcomed her lover as the door slid close behind her. "Hello, Gina, welcome."

Crossing the distance to her lover, Gina embraced Helena as her subordinates gave the women a few seconds of privacy.

"Gentlemen," Helena introduced the younger woman, "I'd like you to meet Miss Gina Inviere. Miss Inviere and Lieutenant Shaw are working very closely repairing our systems and before that, she was supervising our retrofit and I must say she's proven herself invaluable in both capacities."

"Thank you," Gina smiled as Cain offered her a chair. "You certainly set a beautiful table."

"Thank you," Cain's smile was so board the other officers couldn't help but smile at her school girl crush attitude, "Everyone, please have a seat. Please... I think it's quite important for our ship's officers to get together every once in a while. Share some food, some ambrosia, and some good conversation. Ups morale."

"Not to mention," Fisk laughed as he dropped himself into the chair next to Gina, "it's the only time we get to park our butts on a chair."

"Now that you're all here," Cain beamed at his joke, "I would like to take a moment to say a few words. In all seriousness, I said some things before, in the heat of emotion. Things that I thought this crew needed to hear. But I don't want any of you for one moment to think that I would ever risk lives or resources in some mad quest for revenge. My plan is not to wage an all-out classic guerilla war campaign but only hit them hard enough to make our trip home all the quieter. I want to find their weak links, and I want to hit them hard so they'll be blind... then we can slip through."

"As they say," Gina agreed, "the best defense is a good offense."  
Her comment sent a rippling smirk around the table as Fisk gathered up a wine glass.

"Well, then here's to a good offense!" Fisk chuckled, "And to kicking some Cylon ass!"

Jurgen seconded that with a hardy, "Here, here."

And together they toasted, Shaw downing the drink quickly as Helena and Gina made eyes at each other over the rims of their glasses.

"So what can we expect from this array," Jurgen asked as he placed his now empty cup on the table.

"Gina has become our resident Cylon expert, in conjunction with Lieutenant Shaw," Cain ceded the floor, "so I think she would be the best to explain our upcoming battle."

"Yes," Gina said. "The relay may seem insignificant but in reality it is among the most critical link in the Cylon offensive front. In order for _Baseships_ to complete long-range jumps in excess of one-hundred light years and bypass the red line equation these arrays exist in leapfrog like fashion. One array calculates real time equations, and then transmits it down the line to the _Basestar_ that is jumping to that location."

"While we could destroy one relay," Shaw added, "the facilities are setup like webs, break one string you don't know if you took out their central hub or just a outlying terminal."

"Then what's the worth of hitting one of these things?" Jurgen questioned.

"By hacking into the carrier waves," Gina was quick to answer, "We managed to determine where all the signals are heading. This relay is the hub for all other installations in the direction of the Colonies."

"And the toasters," Fisk understood, "just won't be able to jump their forces in to counter any attack we launch, we'll buy some serious time for the people back on the Colonies. We should really discuss this one on one after the dinner just to be sure."

Gina managed a smile but from the leering Fisk was shooting at her it made her certainly uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, Colonel," Shaw however interjected on her friend's discomfort, "but Gina will be helping me tonight with some tactical upgrades…"

With the plans set the dinner continued with small talk and fine food until it was late at night on _Pegasus _and though most of the crew were in their bunks for a good night's rest before the battle some officers were still burning the midnight oils.

"Almost done here," Gina said as she continued to enter the equations the data console, "I don't know how we could firewall these systems by tomorrow unless we split up. And you're the only one with the access codes."

"You can speak to the Admiral," Shaw said wryly, "about raising your security clearance... "

A smirk spread across Gina's face. "Here I thought we were being so discreet. Guess that's hard when you truly care for someone," the computer gave a confirmation beep as Gina started to withdraw her laptop, "Program's uploaded. You can input your code."

"Alpha One Niner Six Gamma One," Shaw said.

"To satisfy your curiosity," Gina explained as she entered the information, "we met a few months ago when I presented the plans for the retrofit. We spent a lot of time together working out the details and I guess one thing led to the other," at her again old comment Shaw grinned and shook her head, "You seem so surprised."

"It's just that Cain seems so self-sufficient," Shaw thought outlawed.

"She has needs, just like the rest of us," Gina smiled as several fond and romantic nights filled her thoughts, "No one can survive entirely on their own. Trust me, Lieutenant. In the end, we're all just human…"

* * *

Hours... hours of the Cylons hammering their defenses...

"_Basestar_ is launching nukes!" Kelly announced as the dradis screens began to swarm with incoming fire. "Forty altogether, ten at us and thirty at the fleet."

"We can take the hits," Commander Adama ordered as he stared intently at the dradis screens above him. "Redirect all battery fire and _Vipers_ to intercept."

The flak fields of the _Galactica_ were efficient but they weren't omnipotent. While the majority of the warheads crashed into the incendiary fire, a trio of missiles curved around the edge of the explosions, too fast for most of the _Vipers_ patrolling the edge to intercept.

But there was one _Viper_ in range that could.

"_This is Starbuck! I have bogeys heading for the civvies_!" Kara hauled her _Viper_ across the edge of _Galactica's_ firing solution. "_I am pursing_!"

Pushing her throttle to max she raced as the ordinances as fast as her ship could carry her but it wasn't enough.

"Frakkers," Thrace cursed, knowing that she was never going to catch up with the missiles. She would have to let her bullets do the talking. Pressing her trigger button her _Viper_ bucked as two streams of heated metal raced towards the missiles.

The distance between them, ever increasing, however was too much and while one of the missiles exploded in a pitiful pop the other two quickly raced out of range.

"_Alert! Alert!_" Kara screamed into her wireless mic. "_Inbound ordinance to civvies! Brace for impact_!"

Starbuck banked out of the way as the ships of the civilian fleet began to swarm into her path. While most the fleet had jumped a good thirty ships still remained, the occasional flash of light to single another ones successful jump.

It wasn't too successful for the _Pyxis,_ as the Intersun liner took a missile in its engines. The chain reaction shattered the ship into several thousand pieces, leaving only a dying ember as the gravestone of the six hundred people the liner was carrying. The _Stackhoff_ tried to swear away but the tracking system of the missile caught up with it and the freighter detonated in a wave of an enormous fireball.

"We lost the _Pyxis_ and _Stackhoff_!" Kelly yelled as the reports came in.

"Gods, Captain Tarney and Captain Wright," Roslin moaned as she dipped her head beside Adama, remembering the crew numbers when they last reported their status reports. "There was over eleven hundred people on those ships..."

"_Victory_ is reporting she's about to engage!" Dualla's voice broke over the Presidential mourning. "She is going weapons free!"

Across the void, the Space Guard heavy cruiser surged into action, for going the protection of her point defense systems and throwing herself head long at the enemy _Basestar_.

"_Baseship is opening fire_!" Alli yelled as everyone looked on. The massive Cylon ship opened up with a wave of missile batteries.

On the SIT, _Galactica_ was already beginning to turn into an attack pattern, _Viper_ we vaulting into the air from her only usable flight-pod and point defense turrets were filling the air with protective fire.

The bridge shook violently as a nuke slammed into the armor right above the command deck, sending vibrations and the sound twisting metal through the room.

"Bring us about," Vonaka roared as another missile slammed into the starboard wing. "Evasive maneuver Beta-2!"

"This close to _Caprica's_ gravity well, this is going to be tricky!" their pilot roared as the warship pushed into a nose dive to avoid another strike.

"_I've managed to reroute power from the emergency backup reactors to the plasma bypasses,_" Alli offered. "_You'll find the thrusters more responsive now_."

"Still on the sluggish side," Contallia groaned as he had to pull hard on his joysticks to get the ship to even make a quarter turn. "Can't you push more into them?"

"_Sun Tzu in the art of war says_-" Alli's helpful comment was however cut off as Contallia screamed.

"Sun Tzu is not flying this Goddess damned ship," Thamos roared as he pushed the warship into a barrel roll, "my purple speckled ass is. Now give me something I can use!"

His answer came as the ship took a violent tilt and a much louder and closer boom echoed through the room.

"_Hull breach, deck nine, section alpha-223_," the AI announced as even with the fancy flying the ship took three more direct hits. "_Surrounding bulkheads are locking down_!"

"How many people were in that section?" Volaska asked.

"_Twenty-six_…" Alli grimly reported. "_The entire gunnery crew for the port secondary plasma cannon_."

"Damnit... status of the civilian ships?" Volaska announced as another series of alarms began to sound.

"Sensors have detected the Colonial fleet is jumping," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss reported from the limited readings she was getting on the her station. "I am already reading twenty ships have vacated the combat zone."

"Do we have a proper firing solution with the civilians gone?" Vonaka inquired.

"_Affirmative_," Alli confirmed. "Missile tubes five through ten have direct lock."

"Then fire!" Vonaka's words were meet by a rumble under his feat as the port bow launchers lobed their armaments out into space.

On the sensor screens, five angry red triangles raced across space to the blinking starfish icon of the Cylon warship. Each one went evasive at the last instance before swinging back in and striking the enemy ship with as much force as their tiny micro-generations could muser.

A simulated explosion followed as the _Basestar _crumpled under the hits.

"Confirming Cylon ship has been destroyed," Alli announced as a collective sigh went through the room.

"I want to have all stations remain at combat ready for the time being," Vonaka however ordered. "They hit us almost every an hour so we can expect the next in little over thirty-minutes."

Controlled but ambient fear held in the air of the command deck as the bridge officers went about their duties. Sensors stations were updated with new star-charts, communication logged and sent orders from the other ships of the fleet, tactical ordered armaments to be cycles out and replaced with fresh one.

And the entire time Gaeta continued to hang back and observe, the proverbial fly on the wall.

Yet his eyes kept drifting over to Alhex, his vague counterpart on this ship. But where on Galactica he relayed orders between the CIC and everything that reported to it, Alhex seemed to be exclusively a tactical officer... firing the weapons with the push of a button instead of order gunnery crews to do so.

"Stop it," the words were curt but definitely directed towards him.

"Huh?" he asked, suddenly catching two very intense eyes staring at him.

"You're staring at me," Alhex's eyes bore right into his. "I don't like it when people stare at me when they really are trying to find an excuse to speak their minds."

"Sorry, I'm just tired," he lied, suddenly realizing he had been boring his eyes into the side of the Lieutenant's head for a bit longer then he had intended. "Aren't you too? You've been up a lot longer then I was."

"I sleep very little," the officer explained as he turned his eyes back to his work at the holo-screen. "Four or five hours a night is long enough for me."

"That's not really healthy," Felix latched onto the chance for conversation, even if it wasn't much. "I mean you -"

"Secondary EM-deflector in sector eleven is down," Alhex suddenly interrupted him, noting a piece of damage on his readouts and suddenly very interested in it. "27-minutes until next incursion and we can't have the entire port flank off-point."

Turning on the heels of his boots, the Lieutenant was gone before Gaeta had even a chance to realize that he had been quiet thoroughly ditched. He however quickly found the departure of one Guard officer replaced by another.

"Lieutenant Gaeta," the golden skinned woman with the incredibly long name handed over a pair of flexi's for his review. "Here are some historical files that I think would help you during your stay with us."

She was pleasant, nice and very polite, from the tone of her voice which was nearly musical to the gracefully slow gestures she made with her long fingers. She seemed like a good person... but right now she was in the way of the annoyance he was wanting to express.

"What is his deal?" he hissed under his breath at the woman. "We are just suppose to work together, he doesn't have to have me so blatantly."

Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss paused in all movements, even the rapid blink of her eyes froze. She seemed to be mulling something over, debating an internal struggle of some kind that was not lost on Felix.

"I would watch yourself around the Lieutenant," the Ityan female cautioned him in earnest. "He can be a little _intense_."

"That's an understatement," Gaeta grumbled to himself.

"He's been through a lot," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss gave him heed. "During the War he lost everything."

"How much is everything?" Felix shot her a look.

"Enough that he is allowed to act the way he does..."

* * *

"_Troy Mining Base 927, this is Verizon Heavy Hauler 012, request final descent vector..."_

The triangular cargo ship rolled in low over the red rung mountains, down into the dusty valleys that crisscrossed the pyramid like hills and towards the great, enclosed dome in the hollow basins.

"_Roger, Verizon HH-012," _a voice crackled over the wireless in the airless atmosphere of this desolate world,_ "this is TMB 927, You are cleared to land. Hope you got some good stuff crammed into that rust bucket, Cori. With the Cylons popping up all over the Colonies we haven't had a real resupply in last few days."_

Landing thrusters fired, igniting the rust colored ground under the mighty engines, as the docking gear began to deploy from under the _Verizon,_ like three long hands stretching out to sand dunes.

_Troy_ was the largest moon of _Aerilon's_ two moons and the only satellite known to have a dense atmosphere... though the thick mixture of nitrogen saturated with clouds of methane and ethane clouds would make any attempt to break the air a deathly mistake.

It was a bleak, empty world, with little to offer and even less to live off of.

Yet its close proximity to the local stars mixed with prefect tidal conditions did mean that _Troy_ was one of the few stellar bodies rich in tylium... the richest in all the Colonies.

The _Aerilon_ people had long since mined _Troy_ for its fuel reserves and even after generations on its surface... they had barely taped even a fraction of a percent contained inside the planet.

"_You better believe it_," Cori laughed from his end of the channel, slowly steering his bulk vessel in towards the only outcropping of civilization on this desolate little world. "_I brought you the most amazing-"_

The first missile struck midship, utterly shattering her lower cargo holds into shrapnel, crates and hull plating strew across the planet's surface. Another hit from the other side, cleaving off the _Verizon's_ engines in an explosion of fury and raging flames.

Like a burning angel, the craft began to loss control and without more than a few seconds after the first few missiles struck, it slammed prow first into the ground and disappeared in a furious fire ball.

As the growing flames roared up in the airless voice, the offending fighters began to come about again, angling this time towards the lone outpost on the ground.

_"Verizon's been hit_," the communication went out in the clear. "_Launch defense fighters and initiate condition one throughout the facility._"

Even as red klaxon lights flashed over the domes, their defensive fighters vaulted into the air... all two of them.

Across the burning debris fields and quickly building speed behind them in the frictionless space, the two _Vipers_ angled up and towards the terrible murders.

Inside the cockpit, the pilot had to hold himself tight to keep from becoming one with the seat. These Mark III Vipers we well known for their speed, but that was because their engines could reduce their pilots to bloody puddles if they went only a dash faster.

"Unknown fighters inside _Troy's_ airspace," pilot Lucian Mast shouted as he banked up and into the fight. "They just took out our only the cargo ship in three months."

A few meters away a similar Mark III pulled into position, its long angular wings and lack of a dorsal fine matched the same design Mast's fighter carried.

"_And I thought this was supposed to be a boring assignment_?" Dixon Peters griped through his helmet mic. "_Where did they come from_?"

"Only the Lords of Kobol know," Mast shouted right back. "And we're going to send them back screaming."

Activating his targeting computer, he watched as the two enemy ships sighted his approach and began to roll themselves about to face him. They were ugly creations, sliver as fresh polished metal but built like mutant bats or birds of prey in defying strike... the titular Cylon _Raider_...

The war had finally come to _Troy_.

"Last one to kill a Cylon buys the ambrosia," he laughed before switching on his weapons and throttling up for attack speed.

The first fighter closed the distance very quickly, lining itself up with Mast's _Viper_ just long enough for him to squeeze off a few rounds.

The fighter dodged and his bullets harmlessly disappeared into space.

Paralleling him, Peters did the same but again the fighter rolled and spun out of the line of fire. In response the enemy began to loop and split in direction, playing a game of chicken with their chasers.

Mast didn't flinch, didn't move, even as the fighter bearing down on him.

"That's right," he whispered inside the confines of his canopy. "Come on, come on, just a little bit more..."

Both ships rocketed towards each other, locking in an ever dwindling spiral of death.

His proximity alarms were screaming, his targeting system was starting to overload.

Just a little bit...

Hitting the trigger, a splash of bullets screamed from his gun cannon, slicing through the empty space and never once slowing as the enemy fighter tried to dodge the shot. But it was too close to do anything.

The moon-shaped _Raiders_ exploded violently, dissolving into a million pieces of spinning debris and spent refuse that Lucian rocketed right through and into the starfield beyond.

"One down!" he shouted into his wireless.

But when no response came, he had to quickly check his dradis to make sure his friend was still there. Craning his neck around he found his companion locked in a death struggle with the last remaining fighter.

The enemy combatant right behind Peters, gaining on him as a burst of high volley fire struck the pilot's wing. Dixon kept himself steady, fighting to control his damaged done to ship.

The belch of flames and escaping smoke was enough to temporarily blind his pursuer, leaving him too confused and for him to start to pull himself free of the obstruction... right into Mast's sights.

"Yahoo!" he screamed.

A squeeze of his trigger and the fighter exploded like a bird losing flight and plummeting.

"You owe me two shots of ambrosia now," the pilot laughed into his speakers, enjoying for just a few seconds longer that he was two kills ahead of his friend and there was only two kills to take today.

But instead of a response to his jibs, he could see the other man struggling to keep his fighter in the air.

"Peters!" Lucian shouted into his comms. "What is you status?"

"_Weapons are off line. I'm ejecting_!" the man coughed in over the channels... but after several heated seconds nothing happened. "_System isn't responding. I'm stuck..."_

* * *

"_The Judgement has acquired firing solution... forward plasma cannon is firing_..." Alli reported, as all eyes were trained on the SIT's holographic space as _Summary Judgement _opened up with a flurry of plasma fire and two dedicated salvos from its missile racks, the _Normandy_-class frigate visibly shook from the force of the ordinance it put into the air. "Cylon _Basestar_ destroyed. _Tauron_ airspace is secured."

Warning klaxons began to subside and officers began to stand-down from combat stations but the heightened tension was still thick in the air.

"That makes 87 _Baseships... _one every thirty three minutes... for two days!" Lieutenant Gaeta commented, leaning over the side of the glowing holo-tank, watching in amazement as the Guard frigate began mop up operations, amazing in a live feed from the opposite end of the solar-system. "Why jump in one after another just to get themselves blown up?"

"No idea," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss commented, paging through holo-sheets of reports from across the system. "But they are really starting to rile up the Colonials. Most of the civilian ships are trying to jump to safer Colonies but after the attacks on _Aerilon_, _Gemenon_, _Sagittaron_ and the last two on _Caprica_, its becoming very obvious nowhere is going to have a safe harbor."

"Alli," Moneti called out as the AI projected in beside him... and trying not to raise an eyebrow as his Colonial counterpart visibly stiffened. "Can you extrapolate any rhyme or reason to the Cylon attacks?"

"_Processing_..." the life-sized transparency nodded as equations and readout screens began to flash before her. "_Scans of Cylon debris have note several variations from the wreckage's we scanned during the previous battle._ _Oxygen particle destiny is only 10% of what we originally observed and the luminous halo from their detonating tylium cores is much lower than we anticipated."_

"What does that mean?" Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss asked.

"Less oxygen means there's less crew," Felix theorized, "less fuel means what little crew had no intention of going to far..."

* * *

He rolled to port, barely avoid a splash of weapons fire from his pursuer.

This _Raider_ was dedicated, it was not going to give up its superior position in combat for anything. Every time he rolled, it dove, when he banked, it spun. No matter which way he went it was still right behind him.

A bullet clipped his wing, the tiny projectile still managed to throttle his bird to its side and force him to fight back for control. The engines may have had a mine of their own but with some tough work he pulled the joystick back up and quickly barreled rolled out of the _Raider's_ line of fire.

"Godsdamn frakker," Peters cursed under his breath, again another attempt to lose the enemy fighter was met with failure. "Why'd I have to get the smart one."

The weapon's fire was getting to close, the fuel he was wasting on his hairpin maneuvers was starting to go dry, he was starting to reach the end of his recovery zone.

If something didn't come to his rescue soon...

A shape slammed over his cockpit, the shock-wave of inertia it carried particularly smacked his ship right out of the way.

"What in the Lords of-"

"Yahoo!" the scream over the wireless gave him only one hint who it could be.

So much speed, the element of surprise, the fact he was completely disregarding his own safety, gave Lucian the edge he needed to open fire and catch the _Raider_ right in the face.

The pursuing craft never knew what hit it, the first shot sliced right through its bolus head and shattered armor. The next few strikes only added to the already crippling damage, ultimately ending in a tremendous explosion of red flames that Lucian flew his Viper right through without regard for the tiny bit of debris around him.

"_You owe me two shots of ambrosia now,_" Lucian laughed over the comms... until the comm station began to violently spark and his entire fighter began to shake a violent shudder. "_Peters_! _What is you status_?"

"Weapons are off line. I'm ejecting!" the man coughed in over the channels... but after several heated seconds nothing happened. "System isn't responding. I'm stuck..."

Shifting over to his comms, he thanked every god in the sky he knew off that the system was still online after so many others had conked out.

"...this is _Viper 41-P_ to Troy Actual," inside his cockpit, controls sparked and displays flickered as alarms protested Peters attempts to stabilize the craft. "Have sustained heavy damage... Engines will not respond. Require assistance. Repeat..."

He tried not to pay attention to the fact that the surface of Troy that was quickly starting to fill his cockpit windows.

"_Viper 41-P, this is Troy Base 927_," the call came back over the wireless a second after. "_Rescue craft have been dispatched_."

Down on the ground, three rescue _Raptors_ began to rise skyward, their white hulls were muddled with scorch marks and red stains from the tearing _Troy_ winds. But even if they were already moving as fast as their engines could push them out of the gravity well, it was not going to be enough.

"Impact with atmosphere in 60 seconds," Peters announced as he tried to get his joystick to respond, though obviously the _Raider's_ last damage had been his death keel.

A distance away, Mast twisted his fighter into a better view with his wingman. Already he could see the three rescue ships burning their way up through _Troy's_ thin atmosphere, a trio of burning comets that were thrusting their way up to rescue his companion.

But they were still too far away.

He however...

"Troy 927, this is Viper 67-M," he was already pouring on the speed as he send his communication. "You're rescue _Raptors_ will never reach him in time."

"_Viper 67-M clear this frequency and return to base_!" the technician's ground-side protested.

But he didn't miss a beat, even as he began to work his thrusters past their breaking point.

"This is Viper 67-M," Mast shouted into his comms, as he felt the gee-force pulling him back into his seat. "I'm going after him."

"_Negative 67-M_!" the ground-side facility dissent to his actions. "_Your craft is not equipped_."

He wasn't listening... as his fingers hit the afterburners again and drove his ship towards his wingman's fighter... and the surface of _Troy_ below.

* * *

_"_And we are at one minute to mark," Billy looked away from the pocket watch in his hand, his eyes starting to blur... going on two days of no sleep was starting to wear on him.

"Men, women, age..." President Roslin sat a short distance away, handing over a stack of paper to one of her many volunteer aids. She finally sighed in defeat as she glanced up at the wall clock. "You know what? Do this after the mark, it's all right. Go ahead and sit down."

"_Passengers_," Captain Russo's voice crackled over the speakers, "_we are 30-seconds to mark."_

"Cutting it a little close this time, aren't we, Billy?" Laura caste him a wallowing looking over the edge of her glasses, bloodshot eyes staring intensely at her aide.

"The pilot says they've had to reboot the FTL computer again," the young man quickly explained, his face worn and sweaty after days at his post without even a hint of sleep.

"Why do the Cylons come every 33-minutes?" both of them turned their heads to take notice of Mr. Doral, the man languished in one of the nearby seats that had been left untouched in the first class cabin. "Why isn't it 34 or 35 or...?"

"Mr. Doral," the President's voice was thick with annoyance.

"What?" he shot up at the call of his direct superior.

"Shut up..."

Across the void, through the fleet that drifted over the Colonial capitol world, the _Battlestar Galactica_ held vigilance over the tiny torpedo shaped_ Colonial One. _

"15-seconds," Aaron Kelly called out, even as the overhead digital clocks began to enter their final serious of countdowns.

"Sir?" Dualla approached the central tactical table and handed over a stack of reports. "113 ships have have spun up their FTL's, 34 still reporting engine trouble, including _Colonial One_."

"We're getting to slow," Adama rumbled under his breath, refusing to take his eyes from the overhead screens. "Won't be able to jump out if they get caught in the line of fire."

"Maybe this time..." Tigh wondered beside him, all watching as the screens began to countdown to...

"Dradis contact," Kelly shouted even as the sensor screens remained blank. "_Leonis_ reports a ship has jumped into orbit. It's the Cylons."

"Dammit," Saul blighted under his words.

"_Battlestars Cerebus, Artemis_ and _Adranus_ are responding," Anastasia confirmed after a beat, even as live dradis feeds from _Leonis_ began to flicker onto their screens. "Guard battleships_ Tandem Repeats _and_ Crisis of Conscience_ have jumped in to support."

"Keep me apprised," the Commander nodded. "Moment they take her out start the clock back up at 33-minutes..."

* * *

_Troy_ was starting to come up fast, the red planet with its yellow clouds was becoming larger and larger like an approaching behemoth.

"Impact with atmosphere in 30-seconds," Peters shouted as yet again he tried to jury-rig his control... and again failing with only a few sparks in the cockpit for his troubles.

He was about to curse and enjoy the pleasure of slamming his fist repeated over and over into the console when a shadow fell over his cockpit.

For a second he was worried the Cylons had sent in another pair of fighters, until he realized the it was Lucian's _Viper_ hovering over his ship.

"_Dixon_," Mast's voice came in over the wireless speakers which we miraculously still working, "_does your landing gear still have power_?"

"It's a yes or no question," he couldn't help the complaint, but as Troy began to fill his windshield he had to check quick. "Barely there but its enough. Impact in 15 seconds. What are you doing?"

"_Saving your ass_," Lucian shouted over the speakers. "_Now shut the frak up_!"

Rolling his fighter under Peters and then rotating a full ninety degrees so the two ship's bottoms were barely a meter apart, Lucian's plan began to take shape.

_"Engage your landing strut's mag-lock on an attraction frequency,_" Mast ordered. "_I'll do the same_."

"How is that going to help?" Peters wondered out loud.

The friction of the atmosphere began to streak their ships with red hot fire, as _Troy's_ gravity began to greedily suck the two ground-ward.

"Remember as a kid," Mast explained. "When you put two refrigerator magnets together? They push apart. Now shut up and we're about to do this times a hundred."

Accepting the other man's theory, Dixon began to activate his landing gear and siphoning all his remaining power right into the magnetic lock system they generally reserved for keeping _Viper's_ on the deck in zero-gee gravity.

Mast did the same and the moment his system confirmed so, he began to push his fighter 'down' and away from the approaching planet. The controls fought against him, trying to slide one way or another against the magnetic repulsion from their twin landing gears. For a long while they waited, both pilots began to wonder if their entire plan was futile attempt...

"_Mast_!" ground control continued to shout over the wireless. "_Your ship is not equipped for rescue operations. You are not authorized to jeopardize yourself. That is a direct order. Acknowledge_!"

Without hesitation or second thought, Lucian reached over and clicked his receive off, the protesting technician on the other end disappeared in a squawk of static and then silence.

"Never liked him that much anyway, anyway..."

_

* * *

_

_"_Cylon _Basestar_ has just jumped into _Picon_ orbit!" Kelly announced as he began to receive the dradis feeds from the distant Colony. "_Battlestars Hades, Muses, Poseidon, _and _Isis_ are responding!"

It was not looking good.

They were close to approaching the third day of the siege now... two days of one suicidal Cylon ship after another. While none of the ships had been successful in scoring any direct hits on the Colonies or the orbiting civilian ships, thank the Gods for small miracles, they had already lost the _Battlestars Minerva _and _Sestus_ to enemy fire.

Over a 110 Basestars had jumped into the solar system, one every 33-minutes... each one destroyed in minutes but still costing them serious supplies and manpower to achieve. And the strain on morale is was causing, both for the civilians and the military, was not helping.

_Picon not going to make it,_ Adama was already calculating the battle statistics in his head.

_Hades, Muses_ and _Isis_ were all _Hood_-class _Battlestars_, yes they were faster but their armaments were not designed for close combat. _Poseidon_ was a _Jupiter_ style _Battlestar_ but if he remembered the last report that had crossed his desk before all this had occurred, she had already suffered terrible damage and still had yet to regain full power to her sub-light engines.

"Jump us to _Picon_ now!" Adama yelled... and instance later the ship flashed out of space over Caprica.

"_Galactica_ just jumped," Billy commented as he stared out the small windows that lined the first class cabin. "The Cylons must have hit again."

Neither him, nor the President tried to wonder how sever the attack had been to warrant _Galactica's_ jump to some unknown battlefield.

_"Ladies and gentlemen_," Captain Russo's voice chirped in through the overhead speakers. "_I'm afraid the Cylons have appeared again but this time at Picon. However, our FTL drive will remain working for the time being so we as that you remain seated in cause we have to jump suddenly_."

"Three days now," Laura commented as she removed her glasses and pinched the edge of her nose. "We can't keep this up much longer."

"Captain reports some of the civilian ships are running on nothing," Billy commented, retaking his seat across from her. "If the Cylons try to hit _Caprica_ again, some of them won't even be able to move out of the way."

"Gods help us they don't..."

* * *

_Vipers _roared off in all directions, each one seeming to volley out into space and then rocket off into the black void of nothing over _Picon_.

_"All right, you know the drill, people_!" Apollo shouted over the comms as he threw his fighter towards the _Basestar_ looming ahead. "_Scatter formation. Keep 'em off the civvies, and don't stray beyond the recovery line_."

From their vantage point inside _Galactica's _CIC, the command crews watched with bated breath as the first wave of _Vipers_ began their attack runs on the offending _Basestar_. Around them the other _Battlestars_ assigned to _Picon_ unloaded their flak fields, trying to lay down as much defense as the three tiny warships, one dedicated carrier and old style destroyer could throw out.

"Watch the ammo hoists on the main guns," Colonel Tigh shouted over the shoulder of one of gunners, the bleary eye many quickly jumped to compensate. "You've got a red light right there!"

Galactica took a violent jolt, as one of the incoming missiles had managed to snake its way through their flak field.

"Hit on the starboard bow," Dualla confirmed after a beat to right herself. "Damage control parties are away."

"_Basestar's_ launching another wave of missiles!" Kelly shouted out as the dradis screens filled with another group of icons.

"Civilian ships in the combat zone are jumping away," the communication specialist added to Kelly's confirmation. "Four vessels reporting serious fuel shortages."

"Redirect them to _Aerilon_ for the time being," the Commander ordered. "They'll have fuel to spare."

"All civilian ships have left the combat zone," the woman nodded before noting a new report that crossed her station. "Space Guard frigate_ Unshattered Allegiance_ is inbound..."

All eyes turned back towards the main dradis column as the small _Justice_-class missile frigate jumped into high _Picon_ orbit and began to angle downward into the battle.

"They are firing their main cannon..." Kelly announced as the dradis screen momentarily lost their field against such a tremendous outpouring of energy. When they cleared a second later a large hole gap had appeared that one was filled with the angry Cylon icon. "_Basestar_ destroyed."

"Recover fighters," Adama nodded, secretly thankful that one of those super-powered warships had been in range to respond in time. "Stand by to jump back to _Caprica_."

It took only five minutes before the confirmation came up from the hangar deck that all fighters were inside the flight-pod.

"Execute jump," Adama ordered the moment Dualla gave him confirmation.

The claustrophobia of the ship folding in around itself was suffocating for just a second before the white flash of light announced their transition from one side of the solar system to the other.

"Jump complete," Kelly confirmed.

"All civilian ships from _Picon_ present and accounted for, sir," Anastasia reported as well.

"Start the clock," the Commander accepted grimly. "And let's start prepping for the next jump."

"Clock is running," Kelly began to reset the digital timer. "33-minutes... mark."

"You got 32-minutes, people," Tigh announced to the tired and exhausted officers in the surrounding CIC. "Make it count."

"Sir," Dualla shouted before the Commander had a chance to retreat back to his quarters for a few seconds of reprieve. "Admiral Vonaka and President Roslin are asking you to contact them immediately. They are already in conference on channel two."

"Wonder if they're talking behind our backs," Tigh grumbled with a grin.

"We could hope. Grab a receive and listen in," Adama responded in a stoic tone. Snatching up the receiver he pressed the black plastic device to his ear. "_Galactica_ Actual, go."

Tigh waited only a second before doing the same.

"_Roslin here_," Laura added her voice to the discussion. "_Go_."

"_Commander Adama, President Roslin_" the baritone resonance of Vonaka's voice cut through the static. "_We have been analyzing the Cylon battle tactics and believe we have come to a possible conclusion for their attacks_."

"Go ahead," the Colonial was more then happy to hear what the Hegemony and its seemingly infinite power had come up with.

"_From our scans we have formulated that these Basestars_," Volaska explained, "_while in their motives are entirely self-destructive, are lightly crewed and barely fueled. In essence they are jumping in scrapped of all their supplies, armor and ordinance... with just enough for probably three or four salvos of missiles before they're totally exhausted_.

"_But why give their warships the bare minimum of supplies and send them into combat_," Laura asked, obviously a bit confused. "_Shouldn't the Cylons be loading them to the breaking point with weapons and soldiers_?"

"Not unless they didn't intend to really do battle..." Adama came to the conclusion before Vonaka could expound on it. "Unless they were merely a distraction."

"_Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss is scanning all major Colonial and Cylon frequencies for anything out of the ordinary_," the Admiral announced, _"cycling back to all transmissions logged prior to the first Cylon strike._"

"That is hours and hours of hundreds of records," Tigh nearly shouted in indignation. "It's going to take her weeks to-"

"_Done_!" the young woman's voice over the channel was nearly cheery in her accomplishment. "_Nothing out of the ordinary except... a Basestar that attacked Aerilon was reported to have launched several waves of fighters. No other Cylon has launched Raiders, even as a distraction measure_."

"_What is at Aerilon_ _that makes it different from the other Colonies_?" Vonaka inquired.

"Not much," Adama rattled off in his head, "the courthouses, they export large amounts of silicon and..."

"FRAK!" Tigh's voice caused everyone in the CIC to visibly flinch.

"_What_!" Laura desperately asked over the wireless.

"_Aerilon_ has two moons, _Equellus_ and _Troy_," Adama explained as quickly as he could. "_Equellus_ only has some minor desert settlements but _Troy_ is the largest source of tylium fuel in all the Colonies... Cylons take out _Troy_ and two thirds of our fuel plus our only refinery left goes with it..."

* * *

The space around them burned and the turbulence increased, slowly they were losing the battle against the gravity.

Even with his plan in action, there just wasn't enough force to keep them afloat... only by adding a real push would they get a difference.

"Peters," Mast tried to keep himself steady, even as the controls continued to fight him and the tumultuous skies grew worse. "I'm going to give you a little kiss. Don't take it the wrong way."

"_What_?" Dixon however got a rude awaking as his wingman suddenly began to angle his ship up and directly into the nose of his _Viper_. "_Mast, abort. Abort_!"

But ever so slightly the two ship's noses connected, jolting Dixon's fighter up by only a meter or two.

Sandwiched between them the land gears sparked and protested such a connection, the magnetic fields they produced created a violent eruption of colorful ions in the fiery atmosphere.

But like a cue ball hitting its target Dixon's ship took the inertia impact and began to rise, knocking itself upward and into the safety of zero-gee space beyond.

"You weren't getting out of buying that ambrosia that easy," Mast laughed over his wireless, though instead of a respond several choice swear words we thrown in his direction.

Lucian however only laughed it off, still enjoying the adrenaline rush in his veins that was giving him a euphoric feeling.

"_This is Rescue Raptor 329 to Viper 67-M_," a voice crackled over the wireless. "_Nice work out here, but maybe it would be best to let us take it from here_?"

He couldn't help but grin at the three approaching Raptors, better late then never.

"He's all yours, 329," Lucian deactivated his mag-lock and landing gear, watching as his companion silently broke away from his lower portions. Reaching over he snapped his long-range comms back on and began his report back to base. "Troy Actual, this is _Viper 67-M_. Rescue complete, Dixon is being towed back to the hangar."

He clicked off, waiting for an angry and heated response from the ground technicians.

None ever came.

"Troy Actual, Viper 67-M," he tried again. "Come in please."

Nothing.

"329," he switched channels, "is Troy Actual that angry with me they're going for the silent treatment?"

"_Hold on, 67-M,_" there was a long pause, most likely as the _Raptors_ pilot tried his own comms. "_We're not receiving any transmissions other then the automated beacon from ground-side_. _No 'ones talking._"

"Are we being jammed?" Mast asked.

"Still getting the ground-side auto-beacon," the Raptor responded. "If it was jamming we wouldn't be seeing that clearly. But its coming in loud and clear for us."

"Then where the frak is everyone?"

* * *

"Mast!" Justin Marian, the technician in charge of the dradis station, shouted into his mic. "Your ship is not equipped for rescue operations. You are not authorized to jeopardize yourself. That is a direct order. Acknowledge!"

There was a burst of static and then dead space... it took Marian all of six-seconds to understand what had just happened.

"He disconnected the channel!" He grumbled to his superior, Beth Taubes.

The older woman was not pleased, the grip on her steel mug was white knuckled as she tried to reel her fury back in.

"If Mast wants to get himself killed," she spat. "But he sure as hell is not taking one of my _Vipers_ with him. Prepare to-"

An roaring klaxon broke her triad as the command center was suddenly bathed in red emergency lights.

"I got bogies inbound to the south of the station!" Justin howled as his screen began to light up. "Vector 4-5-4, attack formation."

Taubes was quick to pull up a live feed on her own station, knocking the mug of pipping hot coffee beside her onto the floor without even batting an eyelash.

"Status report!" she yelled, casting her eyes out through the glass walls of the dome and to the south of the base, trying to make out the approaching enemy fighters in the billowing clouds of a _Troy_ morning.

"Dradis confirms Cylon _Raiders_ and three unknowns coming to bear, sir," her second in command, Henry Kreonuro, added his own voice to the clamoring of shouts and yells from across the command center.

"Incoming fire!" Marian shouted just a second before the entire base rumbled under their feet.

It wasn't enough to knock anyone over or disturb their footing but still Taubes could make out several explosions in the distance... several of towers that dotted the base's southern flank were suddenly absent.

"Dome Three's gone!" Kreonuro howled as the damage reports began to trickle in. "Main Habitat Two has taken direct hit."

"We have a station breach!" Marion's voice again added to the chaos. "Levels six, five, and ten. They're headed towards command and control!"

"Establish defensive line on level four," Taubes roared. "Seal all bulkheads between us and them."

But it was all in vain.

"Bulkheads are not responding..." her second command informed her as the ground gave another heave under their feet. "Communications just went down!"

"Mr. Marian!" she shouted towards the technician. "Report!"

"Someone's overwritten the command codes," Marian explained as he desperately tried to work his disabled console.

"How the hell did they do that?" Kreonuro wondered out loud for them all to hear.

"Internal logs cite it as a local terminal..." the color drained from the man's face, "right before the attack."

"They had a mole aboard," Beth cursed... though it died in her throat as a the sound of gun fire began to rise in the distance.

"Station breach on level six... and level two," Marian words was clouded with terror as the reports continued to trickle in. "There right outside the command center."

"Prepare to abandon the facility," Beth shouted, she was not about to stick around for a long and potentially futile fight with a Cylon boarding party. "All crews abandon base. Repeat-"

The gun shot was a crack in the still air of the command center, the smell of burning smoke was all anyone could smell for a second... before the body of Beth Taubes hit the floor in a limp heap... a smoking hole in between her shoulder blades the only evidence that the sudden disturbance in the room had centered around her.

Justin looked at his former superior with a short frown before casting his eyes up at the shooter, Kreonuro still pointing the pistol at the unmoving body, as if expecting it to rise at a moment's notice.

A beat of silence.

"Took you long enough," Marian was phlegmatic as he swiveled in his chair and headed for the main blast doors of the command center.

"Shut it, Four," Henry grumbled. "She may have been human but she was almost Cylon in her dedication."

"Whatever," the young stated as he crossed the room, none to gingerly steeping over Taube's body. "Stow that thing, we've got work to do, Five."

Reaching the door, Marian punched in the proper code and waited as the door rolled back and out of the way... to revealed the six towering Centurions that crowded the archway, weapons drawn.

"Put those away," the man ordered and surprisingly the machines were quick to respond to his orders. "We have work to do."

Without acknowledgement the clanking robots entered the command center, moving with unnerving mechanical, flanking out to begin establishing their equipment... and to make room for the package they were transporting.

"You really think it will be big enough?" Kreonuro asked as he watched the four Centurions, moving slow under the extreme weight they were moving, deposited the hexagon shaped device onto the open floor of the command center.

"Our location is directly over the main mine shaft," Marian explained. "Moment were out, Raiders hit the support struts, this thing drops a few kilometers into the planet's crush and... well you know the rest."

"Boom..."

* * *

The atmosphere of the CIC was tense, as the implications of the possible Cylon plan was enough to keep everyone's pulses running high.

"_If the Cylons destroy Troy_," Roslin's voice was like a snake, hissing over the wireless with unkept worry, "_we lose the largest fuel reserve in the entire solar system and the only one still active after the attack. Commander, I can not stress enough the repercussions this may cause if we lose that moon._"

"Troy has three major mining bases," Adama ground out, "two small ones with around a hundred miners each but the largest, _Mining Base 927_, has over four hundred personnel. They have a minor patrol force in the air but with the recent attack there are only three Battlestars left to protect _Aerilon_ itself, barely enough to cover both their moons."

"If the Cylons attack," Tigh however had to play the danger card, "we'll be too frakked to secure those mines and protect _Aerilon_."

"_We could evacuate the facility_," Vonaka however offered a secondary plan, "_its just short stop gap but if the Cylons see that we know what their plan is they could call it off outright or try to spring it early. Either way we'd have an advantage and get several hundred civilians out of the combat zone_."

"Madam President," Adama was already following him. "I would like to requisition three civilian ships to evacuate _Troy_, preferably ones that can land and are jump capable."

"_It will annoy a lot of people_," the President knew it mattered little to the military men on _Galactica_, "_but we had just off-loaded cargo from the cargo ships Enkidu, Kellion and Adrsteia to start making room for refugees. I'm sure the captains would agree to this mission if they knew the importance_."

"In the meantime," Adama nodded as the politician set to work, "get me the _Battlestars Concordia_ and _Taratus_, tell them to start prepping for combat. Admiral, are there any ships could can spare also."

_"I can pull the Geometry of Shadows and Voices of Authority_," Vonaka was quick to offer, "_without compromising most of our defensive lines. But we have ten-minutes until the next Cylon incursion will occur_."

"Then we better do this fast..."

* * *

"Alright people," Lee lined the nose of his Viper up with the approaching lights of the distant flight-pod deck. "Combat landings... repeat combat landings. Fuel your birds and be back in the air in twenty-five minutes, no exceptions!"

He was just about to hit his landing thrusters are start to bring this thin in when suddenly his wireless began to chirp.

"_Apollo, Boomer_," the Raptor off to his distant starboard began to sound off. "_I'm getting a lot of comm chatter between the Battlestar fleet and the Guard vessels. Somethings going down_."

"Wonder what-" his response however was cut off as another message began to chirp over the wireless.

"_Apollo, Galactica_," it was Specialist Dualla now on the open channel. "_Actual is ordering you to remain in Caprica airspace, Galactica is committing itself to priority mission and does not have time to land all her birds_."

"Copy, _Galactica_," however the sudden importance that required the _Battlestar_ to leave without half its Viper squadrons sounded weird to him. "Can I ask where you are going?"

"_Classified Apollo_," the communication officer cut him off. "_Your flag is to transfer to Battlestar Tyr until we return_."

"Understood Galactica," the pilot nodded as he started to pull off from his landing vectors. "Good luck."

Without missing a beat, the massive flight-pods of the warship began to retract, taking the floating carrier from it's alligator-like appearance to one solider torpedo form. Beside her another Battlestar and the Warriorstar began to do the same.

The moment they were all hunkered down the flash of an active FTL blinded most everyone and then they were gone... off to a battle in who knows where.

"_Why do I feel like we're missing out on a good fight_?" Kara asked over the comms.

"_Shut it, Starbuck_," Ripper chastised her over the open channels. "_All right pilots, prepare to make combat landings on Tyr. Don't know her commander or her crew but you better be nice or they must just ripe you off at the fuel pumps_."

Lee began to pull his ship around and launched into a landing pattern with the aforementioned warship, the _Nebula_-class _Battlestar_... until the blast of a massive FTL-event exploded between the approaching _Viper_ squadron and their ship.

Without missing a beat, four warheads detached from the upper arms of the enemy warship and crossing the incredibly short distance slammed into the unprepared _Tyr._

The ship took all there nukes in its face, hull plating and armor blew away as the entire vessel was thrown astern by the impacts.

"Ah, frakker!" Lee shouted into his comms, watching as Battlestar attempted to right itself and launch a reprisal. "_Tyr's_ hit! All fighters scramble, scramble! We've got hostile boogie inside Caprica airspace and I don't want her taking any civvies with her! Now move..."

* * *

High above _Troy_ a star was born... dying a second later as the Victory transitioned back into normal space.

Behind her the rest of the allied Colonial and Space Guard armada slowed back into normal space, the massive tan orb of _Aerilon_ orbiting behind them as the distant yellow moon began to grow.

"Alli report," Vonaka announced as he regarded the approaching planetoid growing on the SIT.

"Admiral," "I am detecting a massive electro magnetic burst, a common denominator of a thermonuclear reaction.

"Commander, this Vonaka," "We think the Cylons have already dropped a nuke on-"

"_Admiral_!"

All eyes turned towards the SIT... and to the moon.

For just a second it looked as if the glare of a rising star was obscuring the entire view of the planet, a bight glowing ball was peaking off the planet's northern horizon... until they could see it wasn't the sun but a rising explosion erupting in slow motion.

The ground touched by the fire seemed to crack and invert outward, as the intense tidal stresses of the escalating energy ripped over the moon's crust. Mountains, heaved into the air, valleys shattered into mile deep canyons and the yellow clouds burned away as the atmosphere was scorched into fiery atoms.

And then without warning, even as the blast of unabated fury consumed no more then a third of _Troy's_ surface... the entire planetoid just seemed to erupt outward in every direction, as if the entire celestial body had shattered into billions of tiny rocks all launching off onto their own trip into the never ending void.

"_Incoming debris_!" Alli shouted, even as the holo-space of the SIT become a hailstorm of flying asteroids all hurling in their direction.

"Charge AG-field to full repulsion!" Vonaka hollered as he grappled to the nearest wall fixture and prepared for the worse. "All hands brace for impact!"

The shear pressure wave from _Troy's_ destruction hit them first, all that energy was not bleeding off right away into space and with the immense shift in the moon's gravity, the awe inspiring power had to go somewhere.

And it was all heading towards them...

* * *

Around the field of death _Viper_ and _Raptors_ danced, fighters' leftover from the _Galactica_ intermixed with defenders of the other orbital _Battlestars_, trying to stop the incoming missiles and the dozens of missiles trying to break the blockade.

Rolling her ship onto its side, Starbuck avoided the brunt of the incoming fire of three warheads into the bow, though that was little consolation her wingman flanking her. He tried to dive out of the way but in his haste all he did was expose his profile to the enemy and the projectile slammed through him like paper.

"I lost Oblivion!" she yelled even as the still burning _Viper_ drifted onward into the battle.

"_Pull back into formation Kara_!" Lee yelled over the wireless. "_Raptors_, lean back as missile pickets. Weapons free!"

As Starbuck pushed her ship back into a tight Delta wing of _Vipers_, three _Raptors_ broke from the main battle, speeding towards the wayward _Basestar_. Dodging back and forth they kept themselves safe from the sniping of enemy fire, pushing their engines to the breaking point to stay ahead of the worse the rogues could throw at them.

Leading the strike Lieutenant Margaret 'Racetrack' Edmondson pulled her _Raptor_ out of the fire of _Basestar's_ main batteries.

Days before she had been playing cat and mouse with the genocidal Cylons, running rescue missions across the Colonies and praying that her loved ones were still alive in the nuclear wasteland that was her home. Now she was making a bombing runs against those that had cause them all so much pain.

To say she wasn't going to enjoy this was an understatement.

"Target locked, weapons hot," her ECO Hamish 'Skulls' McCall yelled from the back of the ship, his helmet being illuminated by the flashes of flak fire before them, "_Raptors One_ and _Four_ report similar."

"Breaking seals on missiles," Racetrack acknowledged as she brought the nose of the _Raptor_ down and started their final run. "Five seconds to strike… FIRE!"

_Raptors_ opened up with a hard thud, sending a whiplash through Skulls and Racetrack as their ship took the force of six missiles launching in succession, three comets on each side slicing over the cockpit.

Bordering them the other two other _Raptors_ fired their ordinance, an entire flock of eighteen rockets racing enemy _Basestar_.

Edmondson held her breath as the warheads press on, praying to all the Lords of Kobol that they managed to hit their mark.

Her prays however went unanswered as the missiles sudden began to veer away, harmlessly speeding off into the blackness of space.

"Missiles are curving off course," Skulls yelled from the sensor station behind her. "She's got some heavy EMP coils onboard."

"Frak," Margaret sputtered. "This is _Raptor 989_, Racetrack. _Basestar's_ EMP coils are a lot stronger then we thought. My missiles can't get a lock."

"Enemy is coming about!" McCall added. "We'll have a whole mess of fire coming down on our heads in thirty seconds."

"There's nothing more we can do," Racetrack huffed, "breaking off."

Back inside his cockpit, Apollo face fell.

Racetrack's bombing run had been the only deterrent available to try and break this insane attack by Corman but now with its failure any chance of pulling the man back from the brink of mass murder seemed a distant hope.

"_We've stopped the main thrust_," Starbuck yelled in the heated activity of the wireless airwaves, "_but the reserves have broken through_."

"Frakking," Apollo cursed.

How badly he wished he was below on _Caprica_ with Gianne... to be with the mother of his unborn child.

But the Cylon's had nuked _Caprica_ and most likely taken everything he held dear... including a family he had never had.

Rage was now his fuel as he rolled left to avoid the incoming fire from the massive behemoth of the _Basestar,_ that had somehow managed to keep his tail in it's sights.

If it didn't let up soon he was going to be in trouble.

"_Apollo, Boomer_," Sharon's called out over the wireless, "_I have a wing of Space Guard fighters coming... and hard_..."

He didn't need to be told as his dradis screen was already recording a group of contacts, moving so fast the sensors were having trouble keeping up. Craning his neck around he didn't have to look far as the he sighted the approaching Guard force, each one moving so fast they were nearly blurs in the empty space.

"_This is Lieutenant Blair, call-sign Kicker_," a voice called out of the wireless. "_I have three bombers and four fighters looking for a fight. You got one around this solar system_?"

"Kicker," Lee smirked inside his helmet as he brought his fighter around, "you are welcomed to join the dance if you like. We're willing to share..."

* * *

_Victory_ shuddered violently as the shock-wave struck, forcing the deck to shift backwards several feet and knock the feet out from several officers.

The force threw Thamos from his station, tossing the four-armed man onto the ground as his left, lower appendage gave a sicken snap.

Moneti grabbed Felix and shoved him down onto the SIT, gripping his body over the Colonial by sandwiching his body between the massive piece of technology locked to the deck and his much sturdier frame.

Systems sparked, lights flickered and the ground beneath their feet continued to rumble, even as the pressure wave move one to reek havoc on the other ships of the fleet. _Galactica_ bucked and rode the waves like a maritime ship of ancient times, _Tartarus_ rolled with the wall of energy, its thick hull plating knocking off the worse. _Concordia_ wasn't so fortunate as the _Battlestar_ was knocked backwards, its head rising up and throwing the massive craft into a violent upward spin. The two remaining Space Guard warships, _Geometry of Shadows_ and _Voices of Authority_, had had time to charge their AG-fields to max, allowing the two crafts to fair best out of the flotilla but only by so much.

The two remaining civilian ships were another matter.

_Adrsteia_, a Colonial _Mover_-class freight hauler, lost one of her bulky cargo crates as the mag-locks holding the crates in place failed. Helpless the crew was at the surge's mercy as their ship helpless tumbled in its fury.

_Kellion's_ situation however was degenerating fast. The transport ship wasn't designed for serious stress beyond a normal planetary atmosphere. The pressure wave however was almost five times that and no matter how hard the ship's pilots fought to keep their vessel intact... the civilian vessel broke apart under the immense stresses.

"Status report!" Vonaka called out as the deck began to stabilize.

"_Causality reports coming in from all over_," Alli reported. "_No fatalities but damage control and medical teams are responding_."

"Forward hull is damaged and armor is down to a fourth of total strength," Lieutenant Moneti announced after a pause, casting an concerned eye to the ruffled Colonial liaison beside him. "We're flying... barely."

"Reports coming in from the other ships, Geometry and Authority report all clear, Colonial Battlestars varying level of damage," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss quickly recited the information scrolling her screen. "Sir... we lost the _Kellion_."

"Damn it," Volaska cursed. "I want a-"

"_Vonaka_!" Alli's loud interruption cause the Admiral to spin around just in time as the AI projected before them. _"I have multiple incoming targets! Its the debris storm from the moon_!"

Proximity alarms began to scream across the board as the SIT's holographic sensors began to project a literal wall of rocks flying directly at them... what remained of Troy's surface.

"Prime all point-defense and forward weaponry for full dispersion," Vonaka shouted. "Order the rest of the fleet to do the same!"

The Space Guard warships opened up with everything in their arsenal, missiles and high-velocity projectiles firing forth to catch as many of the larger pieces of debris as possible. But their work was only so precise. Remove the largest chunks still left some wayward stones to impact against their armor.

After a brief recover the Colonial ships added their weaponry, flak fields now were stopping flying boulders over Cylon _Raiders_. _Tartarus_ and _Concordia_ worked in succession as the defenseless _Adrsteia_ crowded in behind the two. _Geometry_ and _Authority_ spread out, the two _Antoinette_ heavy cruisers throwing their heavier armaments out to destroy the larger of the incoming debris.

_Galactica_ wasn't going down, flak cannons and kinetic rounds sailed out into the crowded space, shattering and pulverizing most of the rocky wastes.

But they were merely ants fighting a tidal wave... the main rush of rubble hadn't reached them... until now...

* * *

"_Missiles are coming in too hard_," Ragged voice crackled over the wireless. "_Colonial Battlestar can't keep that flak up and take down the Cylon capital ship_."

"_Our bombers are almost down on ordinance and the Colonial fighters have taken heavy loses_," Mercy added. "_Estimate they'll start hitting the civilian ships in two-minutes_."

"Alright, Ragged, Mercy and Ditzy," Kicker roared to his surrounding wingmen, "form up and follow me in, we're pulling a _Constantinople Hot Pepper_."

The _Constantinople Hot Pepper_ was an ingenious maneuver used during the height of the _Third Hegemony-Pryian War_. While on a minor patrol mission inside the dense Atonally Nebula near the Federation colony of _New_ _Constantinople_, the medical cutter _Lady of Light_ and its three torpedo destroyers, _Bastion of Hope, Running Uphill_ and_ Wayward Girl_ detected an incoming fleet of more then five hundred Pryian _Torchship-_class battleships. The Pryian were using the only plotable route through the dangerous stellar cloud in order to smuggle an armada directly into the heart of Hegemony space, bypassing a few thousand Space Guard ships and striking directly at the massive civilian colony that lay helpless beyond, well-known for its strict pacifism stance.

If the Pryian made it past the death toll would be in the billions, yet they were a minor medical ship and its escorts against an oncoming tidal wave of death.

Yet the _Light's_ captain devised a brilliant strategy. Charging his drive coils to critical, to the point where the ship-board AI could only see catastrophic meltdown as the only outcome, he jettisoned the highly volatile core into the tightest bottleneck in the passageway. Then having his torpedo destroyers open fire with missiles he created a literal wall of fire the Pryian could not pass.

The reaction of the warheads with the already superheated thermionic reaction caused a pseudo-sun to form. While barely a kilometer in size it produced enough heat and gravitational force to collapse the passageway for a time and prevent the Pryian from using it while the _Constantinople_ was towed to safety.

While the act only allowed the Hegemony to close the Atonally Passage for barely six-hours it had been long enough for a full battle armada to move into position and take on the Pryian fleet. The end was a Space Guard victory and the creation of the _Constantinople Hot Pepper_.

And that was exactly what the four fighters were going to pull, on a much tighter and dangerous scale.

"Disable your safeties and charge the drive coils as high as they can go," Kicker ordered as his ship took point as they raced deeper into the passage. "Wait until I give the order and jettison them!"

The _Skybolts_ continued to accelerate to full speed, their drives already pressed to their limits. Any longer and the coils would start to melt under the terrible heat they were generating.

"_Warning_," his onboard computer began to warn. "_Likelihood of imminent core breach in thirty-seconds_."

The low generation AI always got on his nerves, hence why he usually turned it off.

But in a few second it didn't matter, everything came to an end.

"Drop them now," Kicker roared as he hit the emergency jettison lever. "Full axial rotation and open fire."

All four ships separated in haft, the bulk and overheated engine split from the much small navigation cockpit. Using basic maneuvering thrusters and using momentum to carry itself onward to safety the small ships all turned to regard their dumped drives.

Then with little remorse they opened fire... and a breath later the quadruplet stars exploded to life before them.

The first missile slammed head long into the wall of energy and simply dissolved. Never designed to take thermal temperatures at several thousand degrees the warheads targeting systems never could comprehend the immense temperatures and gravity sheers overtaking it. The simple onboard electronics merely noted a change in the surrounding space... and then it dissolved into nothing.

It's followers did the same, a spread of eight projectiles either disappearing from the universe or being fried under the terrible heat.

The sudden release of so much heat, radiation and gravity blinded the collective dradis screens of the Cylon Basestar. Without dradis she couldn't plot firing solutions for her warheads and that of course meant for a short instance its relentless enemy fire paused.

With a break in the fire the _Tyr_ saw its chance to get a strike in.

Rotating about, her flaming head looked like a enraged jack-o-latern, fires during under the broken sections of hull as jets of bleeding atmosphere continued to feed the zero-gee flames, she opened up with the kinetic cannons on her bow. Five bolts of super-compressed iron launched themselves across the open space at blinding speed.

Avoiding the thicker, combat armor along its ventral and anterior portions, the shells slammed right into the central column and tore through the exposed hull plating. An entire chunk of the interior body shell shattered under the impact of such force and the sudden escape of atmosphere took entire section of the internal superstructure built of flimsy bulkheads.

Even under such damage and stress, the Basestar still managed to pull enough power together together and jump away into nothing, free from any further devastation from the Colonial aggressors.

They had won the battle... but at a cost.

The fields were littered with broken _Vipers_, un-detonated warheads, scattered debris from Gods knows where, all that had started to settle into broken ring speeding off into _Caprica-_orbit.

"_What a pretty sight_," Ditzy commented with a hint of enjoyment before finally stating the obvious. "_Now what_?"

Their four Guard _Skybolts_ drifting beyond the field of debris, under the majority of the destroyed refuse and towards the assembled civilian fleet.

"_Kicker_," Mercy radioed over the comms, "_we may not have engines but those ships do. One of them is starting to move towards us_."

And she was right.  
They could little then spin in circles to escape the long white transport that was now approaching them, its cargo bay doors opening to swallow the tiny ships.

"Get ready people," he ordered as they were drawn onboard. "We are going to be meeting the neighbors."

* * *

'It's frakking covering the dradis screens," Tigh could barely believe his eyes.

A rock, almost five time larger then the lone Battlestar, was barreling down on them.

_Galactica_ could turn to bring the majority of its weapons to bear but that would only be a worthless delay. Even as the other ships began to bank out of the direction of the oncoming death, _Galactica_ had been holding towards the core of the fleet, to the direct line of the deadly boulder.

Like a ship about to strike an iceberg they had to take the impact head on to minimize the damage. On their side and they be splayed in two my the approaching rock.

"All port thrusters to full!" Adama ordered. "Keep our nose to the frakker!"

"All hands brace for impact!" Tigh bellowed over the internal comms as the crewmen surrounding him lacked onto their stations expecting the coming storm...

The rock missed the alligator head of _Galactica_ entirely, a last minute twist in its orbit pulled the majority of the hulking stone up and away from the warship... it however brought it right down on the starboard flight-pod.

Not designed to take such a psychical impact the hull crumbled under the hit, striking just along the two gangways that connected the flight-pod to the rest of the vessel. Inside its atmosphere vented into space, greedily sucked away by the gaping chasm torn in the structure. Chunks of the deck went with it, the immaculately prepared museum displays that lined its interior disappeared into the black.

But not finished, the rock tore down the remaining length of the flight-pod, shattering it into thousands of tiny pieces before finally rolling off and back into the storm.

"Damage report!" Adama shouted in his nearly ruined CIC... he had no real way to know as the dradis column had collapsed with a resounding crash during the first hits.

"We lost the entire aft section of the starboard flight-pod," Kelly clamored back into his post, trying not to pay attention to the block dripping from his mouth. "Bulkheads sealed but the entire thing is vented to space."

"Thank Gods no one was in there," Tigh grumbled as he hauled himself back up.

"Let just hope that was the worse of it," his old friend groused.

"I wouldn't say so, sirs," Kelly grimly noted from the only working dradis console on the deck. "Look..."

* * *

"Madam President," Billy made his presence known to Captain Russo, Aaron Doral and President Roslin as he entered. "The pilots of the Guard fighters as you asked."

The four pilots all entered the first class cabin under a screen on intense scrutiny. Every eye was on each movement they made and no matter how much Roslin was elated at finally meeting a member of this Hegemony species she was a bit reserved.

They had no idea of their intentions, what they wanted or if saving their homeworlds was just an ulterior motive to another gain.

Whatever it was Laura didn't trust them any farther then she could throw _Galactica_.

"Gentlemen, I am Laura Roslin," she offered a hand to shake but none of them moved to take it. "President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. Please you are in the company of friends; you can remove your helmets."

At first no one moved, but at the nod of one indistinguishable member of their group, probably their commanding officer, each of the aliens reached up to remove their head coverings.

Ragged and Ditzy were the first to remove their hoods, giving the Colonials the first view of an alien species, the Asari. A monosexual species that had features very similar to human females they were a tall and '_well-proportioned_' race, with a feminine quality about everything they did or said. Both covered the two respective sides of the typical colors most Asari came in, blue and green, along with every spectrum in between. While Laura thought both of them looked like they could be no older then fifteen, little did Roslin know the Asari measured their lives in centuries, not years. At over six hundred years old Ditzy was the oldest officer current serving in Thutmose squad.

Mercy was second, the male Nebari removed his helmet as he almost immediately drew attention for his almost human features. If it weren't for his ice-gray skin and lack of all colors not black or white he could have past for human.

Finally it was Kicker's turn and with a brief amount of hesitation he unsnapped his protective shell and became the first human to ever meet a Colonial face to face.

"You're human?" Roslin blurted out as she was flabbergasted by the dark hairs, tanned skin man standing before her.

"Born and raised, Madam President," Kicker nodded as he pushed his wet hair back out of his eyes.

"What Colony are you from?" she asked as she moved closer to study him.

He looked Gemonese, darker skinned that was the staple of the sun bleached Colony but his accent was distinctly Caprican, clean and with perfect pronunciation.

"Sorry," he apologized as he sat his helmet on the cock of his hip, "not from your solar system. But we can play astrometry later. Right now our monitoring of the battle shows the Cylons have jumped away but we have no idea how long that is going to last. We need to get back to our people as quickly as we can."

"I don't think that will be possible," she disapproved with a wave of her hand. "Because of the danger of the on going battle, I have ordered all able civilians ships to jump to _Sagittaron_ for the time being... safety in numbers and such. In less then a few seconds we are going to be several million miles away."

Each of the four pilots could distinctly hear the sound of the FTL drive beginning to spin up and the crushing claustrophobia that accompanied the folding of space.

Knowing that once a final jump was in its last moments the Guard officers regarded the Colonials with a bit of suspicion, wondering if they were really friends or prison wardens. Yet the comprehension that they were going to be here for a while seemed to cement one fact to Kicker.

"Do you have a glass of water, I'm a bit parched."

And with that six hundred Humans, two Asari, a Nebari and one Homo-Sapien-Aquiticis, jumped into the unknown.

* * *

"_The majority of the debris is settling into Aerilon orbit or burning up in the atmosphere_," Alli reported as she updated her holo-screens. "_The explosion happened facing primarily towards the Colony, so the most of the larger chunks were blown away from the planet_."

"Lucky us," Moneti grumbled as he continued to work the point-defense cannons into a frenzy, surgically removing another cloud of deadly rocks from the surrounding space.

"_Very_," the AI nodded without even giving the tactical officer a look. "_I have triangulated the debris that is a direct threat to... hold on_..."

"Alli," Vonaka didn't like it when the computer was caught off guard by something. "What is it?"

"_Radioactive interference from the explosion is clearing_..." the hologram announced. "_And it appears that the moon's core was not destroyed... it has however been knocked out of orbit and towards Aerilon_."

"How large?" Vonaka had to ask... though he already could tell it was going to be bad.

"_Over 5,200-kilometers in diameter_," Alli announced after visibly running the numbers twice. "_It's primarily composed of solid sodium phosphate and molecular oxygen with a immense iron core. Even with the combined firepower of every nearby Space Guard and Colonial ship... we'd barely remove a tenth of its total mass before it impacts with the planet_."

"There's nothing we can do to stop it," Felix grimly noted.

"_If present course and velocity remain_," the computer continued on. "_We have one-hour until it strikes Aerilon_."

"We have to warn them," Gaeta was stunned by still his mouth was moving. "There are over three-billion people on that planet."

But the crew remained silent, all faces seemingly vague and off-point.

"Lieutenant Moneti," Vonaka finally said, though his voice was low and drawn out. "Prepare to deploy a nova-bomb."

Everyone in earshot immediately stiffened their backs and it wasn't lost on Felix that whatever this '_nova-bomb_' was, it scared the Guard officers.

"_Admiral_," Alli's electronic voice was low, almost dangerous, "_as is required of me, according to Article 910 of the Proclamations of Sentience, when considering the use of WPD's, such force is only allowable with a unanimous vote by the entire command staff of a flagship vessel_."

Moving over to Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss's station, the Admiral tapped only two buttons and the internal chimes of a ship-wide broadcast were sounded.

"_This is the Admiral_," Vonaka's deep voice resonated through the walls as he spoke. "_We are faced with a dire situation and with little recourse you all know what will happen to the innocent people of Aerilon if we do not act. It is my direct order that due to the nature of the situation, I am ordering the usage of WPD... please stand to your duties and prepare yourselves... may whatever deity you worship protect you_..."

Un-clicking the internal comms the tower man turned to regard his senior staff, casting an eye to all of them.

"Anyone have a problem, questions, reservations about what we are about to do," he stared down at them all, eyes piercing right into their souls, "please tell me now and give me a reason not to do this."

No one spoke, no one moved... but after ten-seconds it was enough.

"_All crews, all crew_," Alli's voice echoed through the ship. "_We are now cleared for WPD deployment. Repeat WPD's have been authorized for use. All decks begin lock down sequences and emergency teams please stand-by_."

"What is a WPD?" Felix leaned over the SIT next to Alhex, though the look of deep concern on the Lieutenant's face was enough to make him very afraid. "For that matter, what is a nova-bomb?

"You know how the Space Guard," Moneti said slowly, "had all those advance weapons to take down the Cylons?

"Yeah," Gaeta nodded, like it wasn't obvious how thoroughly they had kicked the Cylons out of the solar-system.

"Well they weren't the most powerful weapons in our arsenal," Alhex drew out those last words to send the message home. "WPD... is a '_weapon of planetary destruction_' and a nova-bomb is the only one the Hegemony will sanction for use... only flagships are allowed to carry them and we only have one."

"And if you miss _Troy_," Felix knew he was probably grossly understating the power he was probably goin to behold. "you won't have any left..."

"No," Alhex shook his head, even as he eye's stared intently at the rock filling the SIT holo-space, "we'll hit _Troy_... but nova-bombs are so powerful... we don't know what else we'll get hit too."

"Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss," Vonaka announced as he approached the center of the bridge, "contact all ships in _Aerilon_ space. Tell them to either jump or make best speed out of the area. Tell our fleet to do the same."

"Sir," the young woman intercut, "_Galactica_ took heavy damage in the storm. Her engines are not responding."

"Have our people tow her to safe distance," the admiral nodded. "Tell them to wait one hour before attempting to return."

"Understood," the ensign began to communicate a rapid series of messages.

While she worked, other activities were going into effect.

"Alli," Vonaka took a deep breath, as if trying to forestall the coming actions, "begin nova-bomb arming sequence."

"_Nova-bomb arming underway_," the AI declared in a commanding voice. "_Security codes required from all senior command officers_."

"This is designated tactical officer Lieutenant Alhex Kenlann Moneti," the man's voice was dark and hallow, so detached the even Felix took a step away as the man entered his voice recognition codes. "Nova bomb arming code Delta-Two-Six-Strike-Strike-Micro."

A loud klaxon rang out as confirmation. Without missing a beat the next officer began to call out.

"This is designated navigation officer Lieutenant Thamos Contallia," the four armed man announced. "Nova bomb arming code Psi-White-One-Nine-Eight-Sky-Granite."

"This is designated communications officer Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss," the young golden skinned woman declared. "Nova bomb arming code Six-Six-One-Twin-Ocean-Tango."

"This is designated Chief Engineer Colonel Hendal Kruxal," the Sangheili's mandible clicked as he spoke. "Nova bomb arming code Black-Two-Two-Green-Grey-Nine-Four."

This is designated second in command Captain Donatito Upsalon," the XO was reluctant as he talked in a furious voice. "Nova bomb arming code Delta-Delta-Nine-Twenty-Four-Dark-Bishop.

"_This is designated core artificial intelligence 456239-19782 Shining Dawn 9834 Alpha_," Alli rattled off the mass of numbers in frightening accuracy and speed. "_Nova bomb arming code 829101-29891-Alpha-199823_."

"This is designated command division officer Sector Admiral Vonaka Volaska, out of Visha by Voya Volaska," the admiral was last. "Nova bomb arming code Beta-Twelve-True-Delta-Confidence-Sixteen. Lock all arming codes."

The final klaxon screamed out, this time replaced but a louder, more shrieking one. The lights began to darken, as a deep red glow began to fill the bridge.

"_Arming codes have been locked_," Alli proclaimed. "_Missile is being loaded now_."

"Thamos," Vonaka nodded, "move us into firing pattern. Charge the AG-field as high at it will go the movement the bomb is clear."

"Aye, sir," the pilot nodded as he began to point the nose of the massive warship towards the approaching chunk of planet.

"Nova bomb has been loaded," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss stated the final reports. "All forward decks have locked themselves down and internal bulkheads have sealed.

"Lieutenant..." Vonaka voice was long, drawn out and with a hint of controlled fear in his voice. "FIRE!"


	12. Chapter Twelve: Mist of Someone

**Chapter Twelve**: Mist of Someone

**Rating**: PG-13

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Feedback**: Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywriter by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

* * *

_"The speed of light is 299,792,458 metres per second. Pain travels through the body at 350 feet per second. Even a sneeze can reach a hundred miles per hour. And as for life? Well... that just bloody whizzes by."_

**Professor Eugene Jones, **_**Final Lecture Notes**_**, Great Theoretical Mathematicians of the 45th Century.**

* * *

**Time**: _Third Month of Ichor, Twenty Eighth Day, 3021 A.F. Hegemony Calendar / March 10th, 6230 C.E. Terran Calendar / Plus Five-Days from Initial Cylon-Hegemony Contact._

**Location**: _Former Moon of Troy, Extreme __Aerilon_ _Orbit, Cyrannus Solar System_

* * *

It was so small; he was actually expecting something bigger for a weapon that struck such fear into the heart of every Space Guard officer on the bridge.

But it was fast, the tiny little projectile screamed threw the dust clouds and past rocks the size of mountains at a near blinding speed.

"_Nova bomb has launched_!" Alli shouted, the pixilated voice of the AI was almost panicked. "_Shifting all power to the engines, AG-field and armor_!"

"Increasing thrust," Thamos called out as the ship began to rapidly accelerate away, trying to put as much distance between the missile and them as possible.

"Impact in thirty-three seconds!" Alhex added. "Confirming _Galactica_ and our fleet has jumped out to safety."

The SIT showed the tiny icon dodging and dancing through the growing asteroid field, towards the massive chunky core of that once _Troy_.

One moment the solid metallic core of _Troy_ slowly swelling into the main view of the _Victory_... and instance later a fiery explosion brighter than any eye could stare into erupted like the blooming petals of a flower. Chaotic energy screamed out, tearing canyons and caverns into the rocky planetoid.

Punching deeper, you could see the main blast had punctured deep into the heart of the boulder, severing critical tectonic plates, awaking already stressed fault lines and compromised the already unstable boulder.

And that was just the ignition detonation... when the warhead itself detonated... existence just disappeared into brilliant and violent light.

"_Shock-wave incoming_!" Alli shouted as the tremendous outpouring of energy nearly blinded her sensors. "_Hang on_..."

The force of friction, pressure and the raw energy flowing freely smack the mighty warship aside like a fly to a tidal wave. Several trillion joules cascaded over her, more power than a normal star emits during its whole life.

Unrelenting damage struck the warship, consoles exploded, wiring broke free and anyone without a tight grip was throttle back by the several gravities that hauled the ship aside.

"Status report?" Vonaka hollered the moment the shaking and bouncing of the deck began to subside and they were all certain that life had not left them.

"_Sensors are picking up spatial distortions_," Alli declared, "_high-energy particles and neutron bursts all around us... we are caught in the after surge left by the shock-wave_."

"Looks like the worst of it has passed," Alhex added, as he tried to bring the flickering SIT back online. "We've lost most of our armoring along the bow and port side. Switching to secondary systems until it can be regenerated."

"Impulse and main drive engines are offline," Upsalon continued as he finally managed to activate a holographic overview of the ship. "Three different hull breaches recorded all over the ship... and casualty reports coming in... several fatalities."

"Engineering reports main power is starting to fail," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss announced as reports began to flash across her screens. "Primary life-support is not functioning and with current reserves we'll have fourteen hours of breathable atmosphere before it fails completely."

"_Admiral_," Alli now inserted her holo-body into the center of the bridge. "_I have to remind you, that according to Article 864 of Proclamations of Sentience, that in the event of an emergency power situation, a holographic crew-member must sacrifice their avatar and projection systems in order to ensure the living crew might survive."_

"Let's hold off on that for now," Volaska waved off her assumptions. "We lose you and most of our internal systems will have to switch to manual. I'd prefer to use those people for repairs and recovery than keeping the light-switch on.

"_Understood, but in_..." the AI nodded yet suddenly stopped in mid-action. "_Sir, we have an aftershock moving toward us_!"

"All decks brace for-"

The Admiral's declaration was cut off as the ship began to violently shake. The force, the shake... it was the worse yet. People were slammed into walls, a fiery explosion erupted in the far corner of the bridge and the overhead lights shorted out...

And everything when dark…

* * *

"Madam President," Billy announced from his recent arrival from the cockpit. "I have a _Raptor_ inbound from _Sagittaron _carrying Colonel Sears from the _Battlestar_ _Eudore_. He's _requesting_ a landing clearance."

For some reason, Laura didn't like how her young aide was stressing the word '_requesting_'.

"Clear him," the woman nodded.

Minutes later the _Raptor_ was cooling its engines as Lieutenant Colonel Walker Sears, along with his attaches Lieutenant Junior Grade Jake Ronson and Captain Charles Frost started towards the first class cabin that was now the Presidential Office.

"Would you get a load of those things," Jake remarked as the trio passed the Guard's _Skybolts_ at the other end of the bay. "They look like frakking plucked chickens."

"That plucked chicken only took five loses compared to our several hundred _Vipers_," Frost commented with detached interest.

"We won't hold merit just 'cause they took our side to gain our trust," Sears grossed as they started to climb the stairs out of the docking bay. "They are an unknown species and we have no idea what their intentions are with us. Now we have aliens to meet, so move."

A short two minute walk through the interior of the ship the sound of arguing voices caught their ears.

The three men entered the first class cabin to find President Roslin in the grips of a heated debate with a tall tanned man in a black flight suit. Around the perimeter of the two were the opposing sides. Aaron Doral, Captain Russo and Billy Keikeya made up the Colonial side of the debate while the other side consisted of a white skinned alien and two strange women, green and blue skinned with short tentacles for hair, all dressed similar to the man arguing with Laura.

Sears would have to adapt his tactics. At first he had thought he was dealing with just one race of Hegemony, now their apparently were four, one that appeared to be human.

"I want to contact the nearest Space Guard ship," the unknown man exclaimed just as Sears cleared the door, "instead of being held hostage like this."

"You're not being held hostage," Laura insisted but it didn't help to convince the aliens.

"We're not?" the white skinned alien growled. "I would consider being told we can't leave the ship on our own, gain access to our fighters, contact our people or given any chance to let them know we are okay is certainly a hostage situation."

"The Hegemony will not take lightly," the green woman grunted. "Four of its pilots are being kept against their will isn't going to help relations."

With the tension only thickening in the air the Lieutenant Colonel finally decided that he could no longer sit on the sidelines any longer.

"What is going on here," Sears said as he announced his presence, enjoying the surge of power it gave him to command such respect.

"Ah," Roslin sighed in relief. "Ladies, gentlemen, this is Lieutenant Colonel Sears, our liaison while we are in _Sagittarron_ airspace."

"My name is Lieutenant Commander Jorden Blair," the tanned officer nodded, "callsign Kicker, leader of Thutmose squad out of the _HSS Dynamic Year_. These are my comrades, Lieutenant Nassana 'Ditzy' Sseleriw," the blue Asari nodded at the mention of her name, "Private Ak'now 'Ragged' Junsto," the shorter green Asari tilted her head, "and Chief Petty Officer Nerri 'Mercy' Cilbuper," the white Nebari gave a mock salute at his reference.

"Let's just get past the pleasantries," Sears cut the small talk and went right for the real reason he was here. "What are the Hegemony's intentions for our homeworlds."

"Intentions?" Kicker couldn't believe what this man was saying.

"He means to say are you planning to invade?" Captain Frost explained as if Kicker was an idiot. "Was this just an ends to protecting your future assets before their conquered?"

"Lieutenant Colonel!" Laura protested, utterly cut off-guard by this trio's hostile and xenophobic nature, "I take offense to what you are implying."

"Let me tell you one thing," Kicker grumbled. "The Hegemony is vast, spanning more space then most people in the Colonies could imagine. What interest do you'd think we've have for a solar system of twelve worlds almost three thousand cycles behind us in almost every technological category. No offense but your people have next to nothing to offer to our empire."

"Consider this option," Mercy explained as he shifted his weight from side to side, fixing the men with a deathly stare, "maybe we just came to help you out of the goodwill of our hearts?"

"No one does anything without expecting something in return," Ronson criticized as if it was impossible to be otherwise.

"Lieutenant Colonel Sears is it?" Mercy said as he leaned in closer to the older Colonial. "What was the reason you joined the military?"

For a moment Walker hesitated before finally he answered. "I gave my word to Colonial fleet. My word is that I defend humanity from the things like you who wish to do us harm."

"I have never met anyone who thought like that..." Mercy admitted with a sly smirk,. "Probably because the universe kills them before they chance to reproduce. Learn to think that not everyone is out to get you and probably you'll live to see another decade."

"When will we be allowed to return to our ship?" Ragged interrupting the already fuming Lieutenant Colonel from retorting.

The room was quiet as both the President and Lieutenant Colonel regarded the four pilots. Something in Kicker's gut told him they were not going to get what they wished for.

"For the time being I would prefer to have them returned to _Eudore's_ brig," Sears shot a glare at Roslin, who seemed to unconsciously agreed with him. "Until we can decide what to do, of course."

"Decide what to do?" Ditzy spat in indignation. "We're the first alien contact you've ever had in your nation's pitiful history and you think locking us behind bars is really going to make this entire ordeal all the more peachy?"

"Madam President," Ragged weighed in, "we demand as citizens of the Hegemony and sentient beings the right to contact our people!"

"You can demand all you want," Ronson intercepted her before the Asari had the chance to protest anymore, "but when the man speaks, his word is final. Now start moving the fine blue butt of yours."

The Asari's checks flushed green in rage and in a second her nose was an inch from Colonel Ronson's as she said in the deepest voice a species as beautiful as her's could, "You can kiss my blue-"

"Nassana, halt!" Kicker ordered as the towering Asari began to move dangerous close to the Colonial. "Nassana look at me! Ditzy stand down now!" Pulling herself back from the brink Ditzy retreated a step behind her commanding officer who immediately laid into her. "You have been a Guard officer for over three-hundred cycles, act like that means something!"

The Colonials were almost throttled with the fact that their Colonel almost had to deal with a woman who looked to be no older then a young lady was really five times his age. Turning back Kicker regarded the six Colonials with a fair amount of contempt, just before his eyes drifted to the pitcher of water on the President's desk.

"Now before we graciously accept Commander Sears's invitation to his ship, I would like to ask again for that glass of water," Kicker said at the startled Colonials that only stared at him for his peculiar comment. "I have a very sore throat."

Deciding to give in to the man's request Roslin lifted the crystal jug and poured an ample amount of the water into a glass. Then with conscious skill she handed the glass over, unknowingly giving the Guard pilot the ultimate weapon.

Kicker's foot laced upwards and the tip of his boot slammed into Roslin's hand, shattering the glass and sending the water in all directions.

* * *

"_Code red, officers down... code red, officers down in command... Can anyone hear me... anyone... anyone_..."

The alarms rang out in the darkened bridge, red emergency lights flashed for a moment before plunging the command center back into black. Circuitry crackled, the moan of spilled crewmen added to the destruction.

"Admiral?" the petite hands of Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss hauled the towering Anchallian up with surprising force.

"I'm all right," he waved the young woman off, trying to gain some sense of command again. "Alli, report!"

But when all eyes turned towards the AI, they froze.

"_Internal systems failing_," her holographic body flickered and faded, fighting to keep stability. "_Cascade distribution in progress... fragmentation... corruption... shutdown_..."

Like a candle dwindling on its last wick, her program surged under the last bits of power it could muster before finally fading into oblivion... and clear air.

"What happened?" Thamos asked as he hauled himself up from his station. "Is Alli alright?

"She's suffered a cascade matrix failure..." Vonaka already knew the answer. "So much information was dumped onto her system her only recourse to survive was to shut down her main core and fragment her processor all across the ship to avoid an entire system crash."

A groan, almost lost in the complete chaos of the destroyed bridge, caught the Admiral's ears. Turning about he found his helmsman on the floor, clutching his lower left arm, bleeding and bent at a nauseating angle.

"Medical team to the bridge," he yelled into his ear-pod as he raced to his officer's side... but there was no response. "Vonaka to sickbay... Vonaka to main engineering... This is the Admiral to any crewmember, please respond."

The channel was quiet, not even the crackle of static to hint that the internal communications were even online.

"The last hit knocked out most of the system primaries," Alhex coughed as he worked his way around his broken and sparking console, "including ship-board communications, the main computer… looks like we still have impulse power... but not much else..."

Officers began to haul themselves up, the ones that could at least, as the damage began to be surveyed and repairs begun with what little materials they could salvage.

"Where's Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss?" the question from Captain Upsalon was innocent, as he wondered out loud where the communication's specialist could be... until someone noticed the prone form lying on the far side the command center.

Felix was by her side first, pressing two fingers into the side of the woman's neck, trying to find her carotid pulse... before slowly withdrawing them and shooting a tell look at the men crowding around him.

"No pulse," he stated grimly.

"Of course not," Alhex muttered as he crouched down next to him. "Ityan's don't have any major arteries in their necks."

Instead of reaching for her neck, the Lieutenant reached downward and placed his fingers firmly onto the unmoving officer's hips.

"I'm not getting anything from her femoral artery," Moneti grumbled... before shooting a glance towards his commanding officer. "Sir, would you please hand me a bio-electrical pulser and a plasma charger from the medical kit?"

"Here you are, _doctor_," Vonaka said, reaching towards a white utility box stowed under the now non-functional SIT, handing over the instruments the now-medic had asked for.

"Power the charge to 100-thousand volts on a tri-placate cycle," he ordered as he pressed the cone shaped object against Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss's temples.

"What are you doing?" Upsalon asked, leaning over the ensign.

"Ityan's have a powerful yet redundant neurological system. If they take enough damaged, they can place their bodies into a near coma like state, shutdown all major organ systems and then devote all energy to repair it... kind of like how an _Earth _possum plays dead," Alhex's explanation was finalized as he activated the charger. "All you need is a big shock to wake them up and…"

Like a bolt of lightning through her body Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss convulsed as every nerve in her body contracted. Then as quickly as it came her body fell like a puppet with its strings cut.

"I'm alive," she managed as she gasped for breath, eyes blinking back tears.

"No you're not," Alhex smiled, "but in an hour you will be."

"What the hell hit me?" Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss coughed. "Oh right... the wall did."

"Don't move yet," he advised her as the young woman tried to raise her head to see the wound. "Your cellular structure is still in regressive reconstruction. I am feeding a bio-electrical pulse into your spine."

"In other words, your battery operating my head right now until my body heals," she groaned.

"Always with the laymen terms," Moneti laughed...

* * *

The glass shattered, broken shards of crystals now flying in the air and more about the water blossom out in a splash of rushing transparency.

But he worried little about the mess.

They may have left their rifles in their fighters as a sign of peace, but Guard officers were rarely unarmed.

Kicker was the most adaptable kind, one that didn't need to carry a gun. As a hydrokinetic, he was a type of telekinetic over water or waterbending as those like him had called it thousand cycles ago.

While most humans always have had some degree of psychic ability; empathy, telepathy, telekinesis; those of the gene-generation found their abilities sometimes shifted towards the given environment they were genetic bred towards. The volcanic nature of the planet _Taradus_ bred the great Firebenders, the snow fields of _Vyctor 5_ brought about the Icedancers of angelic grace and endless fields of rock and dirt created the hardened Groundpounders of _Kerrigan Gamma_.

Waterbending was however the most common of elemental bending forms, as the majority of humans frequented worlds with high water contents. Based around the ancient Earth martial art form of Tia chi, one of the few human fighting styles to survive over the last four thousand four hundred cycles, it featured slow movements and elegant stances that seemed to shift like flowing water. The fighting style was found to compliment the bending methods of water, creating a deadly and wet combat form.

Whipping his hands passed his hips the water rushed to follow, slicing in two streams that floated and moved to Kicker's beck and call. Wasting little time he brought the meager stream into action and struck.

Back home on _Earth_ he remembered having so much water he didn't know what to do with it. As a kid he had spent hours living under the surface, using both his waterbending and retractable hand webbing to race through the currents with his brothers. His mother was so protective of him she didn't even let the young him leave the safety of the ocean until he was almost fifteen.

That is when Kicker started to learn mass quantities of water were a rarity outside of home, a lesson that had taught him to use whatever liquid was around.

The jet lashed out like an angry cobra, slamming the Lieutenant Colonel Sears and Captain Frost backwards before they could draw their weapons. It wasn't the tidal wave Kicker had been pushing for but with limited resources came amazing results.

Concentrating back to his lessons Grandfather Blair had taught him as a child in the steamy tropics of Antarctica, Kicker held back the main bulk of his liquid and separated two globes out as tiny missiles.

Roslin had no time to understand what was happening as a ball of water caught her in the neck. Slamming her back and into the wall of the first class cabin she choked and gasped for breath as the water suddenly pressed hard and cold against her skin. It was only when Captain Russo fell to a similar fate the she realized why, even as she tried so hard to fight against the attack, she was powerless. Thrown back into the wall next to her, Laura watched as the water, which had suddenly come alive, solidified around the Captain's neck into crystal white ice. Unable to move as it had fused to the metal surface behind him, both of them could only grab at their new found shackles as they tried to break the rock hard water.

Almost unnoticed at the same time Ragged unsnapped two plasma pistols from her back, each gun unlocking and expanding as its barrel began to glow a sickly green. Laura at first thought they were nothing more than flashlights, with a bulbous head and a cylinder like body. But when Ragged hit the release trigger the two hafts of the tube separated and a bolt of superheated ionized gas ignited and Ronson found himself staring into the barrels.

Ditzy followed suit with an identical pair in her blue hands as she covered the other Doral and Lieutenant Colonel Sears before they had a chance to react.

Retracting a set of razor sharp serrated blades, Mercy closed the distance between himself and Frost faster than anyone could fathom. Springing across the deck like a rabbit he traveled the ten feet distance between the two with just one step and the older man glared at the white skinned alien that was now pressing two knives in a backwards scissor formation into the flesh of his larynx.

Each of the six Colonials found the tables suddenly found the tables turned on them. Before the Guard pilots had been their prisoners, now it was reversed.

The standoff had begun.

* * *

"This is the Space Guard vessel _HSS Victory of Triangular_ to any vessel within range. We have taken heavy damage and are in need of assistance. Please respond," sighing, Upsalon slide the communicator off his ear as he turned back to stare at his superior. "System is online, but I know no idea if the long-range communications are functioning. I'll set the message on auto-repeat and see if we get a response."

"Well, don't count on leaving through there," Alhex grunted towards the now useless lift. "Emergency bulkhead closed just beneath that lift."

"Confinement mode?" Vonaka asked as he regarded the thick, metal barrier that had fallen into place over the transport car.

"Most probably," the Lieutenant agreed as he moved back to one of the barely functioning systems on the far side of the bridge. "Isolation protocol in effect for the whole ship."

"Isolation what?" Felix asked.

"If the sensors detect a hull breach," Volaska quickly explained to the Colonial, "they'll automatically closes emergency bulkheads to seal off the breach. Without Alli we'll have to manually clear those bulkheads, we'll be cut-off from the rest of the ship."

"I've got internal sensors partially back on-line," Thamos announced, working one of the stations with three of his good arms, the fourth tucked into a sling hugging his chest. "I'm picking up highly dispersed life-signs throughout the forward and habitation sections. There are definitely survivors but I can't give you numbers."

"Can you scan main engineering?" Vonaka asked.

Thamos worked for a moment, before finally and slowly relaying the news to the Admiral. "I'm not reading any life-signs in main or secondary engineering."

"Could internal sensors be malfunctioning?" Upsalon stoically inquired.

"There's no way to know," the pilot shrugged. "Without Alli online to run a diagnostic, I can't be sure. I can however confirm there is breathable atmosphere in those sections... just not if anyone is breathing it."

There was a pause as the news sunk in.

"We should assume the worst..." Volaska breathed finally, "that everyone one in main engineering is dead and no one is in control of the reactor core."

Any mourning or personal thoughts were short however as another sound, a surge of power buzzing quickly behind them caught everyone's attention.

Sliding out from under the SIT, Lieutenant Moneti wiped his hands on his pants, working off some dust and grease as he now rose back to the functioning holo-projector that flickered and fought to stay online.

"How'd you do that?" Upsalon asked. "Power to the holographic matrix is down."

"I diverted power from the plasma relays and dumped it into the engineering systems," Alhex shrugged as he began to gingerly manipulate the controls. "The engineering station's on-line, sir."

"You what?" the Luxan reacted sharply. "You can't dump that much raw energy into a computer terminal without safeties. The entire systems-"

"We aren't going to get out of this by playing it by the rules," Alhex quickly cut him off.

"What's our engine status, Lieutenant?" Vonaka asked, cutting off any more protests from the Captain.

"We've got half thrust available," the man acknowledged as he worked the controls. "But without navigational sensors, we'd be flying blind..." A frown sprung across Alhex's face. "Sir, I am getting some odd readings from the main reactor..."

Upsalon quickly moved to join him, managing to bring another console online.

"I'm reading a spike in the stasis field array..." the second in command nodded as he read the reports. "I think its a containment deviation..."

"Switch to primary bypass," the Admiral ordered.

"Non-functional," Alhex declared after a second, the station's beeping against his orders not being possible. "Stasis strength's at sixty percent and falling... The nova detonation most likely caused a magnetic shift in the plasma containment stasis field."

"When the shock-wave hit us," Upsalon helpfully explained to those that have never spent time in the Space Guard engineering divisions, "the ship was momentarily electrically charged... as if we had grabbed onto a live wire."

"That weakened the containment field surrounding the reactor," Moneti added further, "sucking energy out of the protective casing as it passed. The field strength is down to fifty-nine percent... and it's still falling."

"If it falls to fifteen percent..." Thamos ominously thought out-loud, "the reactor output will overwhelm the field and it will collapse... then it will breach."

"Which means?" Felix asked.

"Reactor loses containment and..." the purpled skinned man replied, "we explode."

"We can't launch shuttles or escape-boats in this mess," Vonaka groused as he paced the full length of the bridge, "we'd be firing people off and into the nearest rock a few meters later. We need to start emergency procedures."

"Initiating emergency procedure Alpha One," Thamos nodded as he began to power up the needed protocols. "Bypass secondary controls and place all systems on manual override."

"Our top priority be to stabilize AG-field," Vonaka surmised from the damage read-outs on the barely working SIT. "We're stuck dead center of an asteroid field with no protection."

"On it," Upsalon yelled out.

"In the meantime, Lieutenant," the man turned towards his tactical officer. "I want a survey of the rest of the deck, gimme the local situation."

"Yes, sir," Alhex nodded as he began to manipulate the controls. "All access-ways and lifts on the deck are blocked. Direct access to the rest of the ship has been completely severed by emergency bulkheads."

"Sickbay?" Vonaka asked.

"Heavy damage in section thirty-one-Q has cut them off," Moneti shook his head. "Access to sickbay one, three and four is impossible at this time."

"Can we get to main engineering?" Volaska continued to press on. "If we can get someone into there we can regain universal access to the whole ship."

"A direct route is blocked," the officer announced as he began to work around the many flashing red sections on the holo-map of the ship, "but there might be a way to reach it through a starboard service ways."

"Those areas aren't meant for organic crew-members," Upsalon immediately spoke up. "Only machine or silicon-based lifeforms can survive the high levels of radiation from the plasma relays. As far as I know, Everyone here is carbon-based. You'd be getting a deadly dose in a few seconds."

The idea of dying by radiation slowly or but the detonation of the thermionic core however was leaving them little options.

"If we make regular stops," Alhex began to rotate the map, highlighting a jagged course through the lower bowels of the ship, "inside the maintenance stations or cargo bays along that route, our own body's nanites can absorb and remove most of the radiation in a few seconds."

"What about those of us who don't have little machines in our blood?" Felix glared at him, joining him to lean over the station at stare at the rotating transparency of the ship... until something sharp struck him in the back of the neck. "What the frak was that?"

"Congratulations," Moneti gave him a dark grin as he tossed the hypo-plunger onto the deck, "you now have little machines in your blood."

"You have no-"

"Lieutenant Moneti," Vonaka cut their argument off before it had a chance to escalate, "take Lieutenant Gaeta and try and regain control of main engineering."

"Let's go..."

* * *

The cold ice continued to press into Laura's throat, constricting what little air she could get into her lungs right now and making her chest burn from the effort.

Before her the Guard pilot stated his demands again as the ice tightened a little more.

"Will you allow us to contact our ship?" Kicker yelled.

"I can't…" Roslin coughed as talking and breathing were starting to compete for one another.

"I don't like holding you hostage," Jorden admitted, "but since you were doing the same I think I'll return the favor. Allow us to contact our ship!"

"Out… range… can't... reach…" Laura finally managed as her vision began to blur from the lack of air reaching her brain.

"If we release you, we start talking like people," the white skinned man said, Mercy she remembered his name as. "Not as enemies. Understand!"

"Yes…please…yes…" Laura pleaded, wanting nothing more to be able to comfortably breathe again.

Slowly and reluctantly the other pilots did the same, Ditzy held her pistols in place for just a few seconds longer then the two Colonials under her sights liked but finally retracted them.

"Now that we are all happy how about we get down to business."

"Business!" Ronson sputtered. "I'm going to have you in the brig on assault!"

"Try," Mercy invited, picking the tip of one of his blades on edge of his fingernail, "and see how long it takes me to put that knife back on your throat."

"Ronson, stand down," Sears ordered as the man reluctantly pull back. "They can talk until their blue in the face but there on our turf and our terms now."

"Blue skinned—"he muttered on to receive a enraged Sears yelling his name.

"Jake!"

"Am I interrupting?" the fight went quiet as the entire room turned to stare at the arrival of an older woman dressed in final blue robes.

"Lieutenant Commander Blair, Lieutenant Colonel Sears," Roslin introduced the new, somewhat bewildered arrival who cautiously stepped into the first-class cabin, "this is Elosha Gale, Religious Adviser to the Quorum of Twelve and now one of my prime consultants."

Smiling as she entered the room Elosha was cordial to everyone, until she came up the four aliens. One in particular caught her attention, less by his human appearance and by a certain feature that everyone else in the room seemed to be missing.

"Excuse me," Elosha nodded, "but your suit is leaking again?"

"Oh, damn it," looking down Kicker saw that she was correct; apparently noticing he had torn a break in his suit. "Ditzy, hand me another patch for my suit."

The Asari did what was asked of her and handed over a small white square from her utility belt. Then without even hesitating for a second, Kicker slapped the patch onto the tear in his suit, waiting just a second before it constricted into place and the water bubbling from his suit finally stopped.

"What are you doing?" a confused Frost asked at the sight of a man suddenly pouring water his side.

"My gills are a little dry," Kicker confessed as the last drops of water dripped from the jug. "Need to fill up on water soon or I'll start to chaff."

"Gills?" Doral repeated just as confounded. "You said you were human?"

"I did sir," Blair nodded as he finished off the container of water and laid it hard onto the desk. "My ancestors just evolved a little different then yours. A little quirk we added when we genetically modified ourselves off the general stock of humanity."

Elosha and Roslin were totally aghast at the idea.

"Why would you do something like that to yourself?" the President asked.

"Genetic modification has been standard among humans for over four-thousand cycles," Kicker explained he lightly tapped the patch, making sure it was securely in place. "It was the only way we could colonize some worlds where terraforming wasn't practical."

"You mutilated yourself," Elosha gasped. "To change what the Gods have created is absolutely forbidden."

"The glory of creation is in its infinite diversity," Kicker quoted in an almost awed like sense. "Those are the first words in the Book of Gaia, written over four-thousand cycles ago during the darkest days of my forefathers. It was because of its teachings that my ancestors turned a world in the throes of ecological disaster and near extinction into the most powerful and revered world in the galaxy."

"But your human," Russo noted. "You have to come from one of the Colonies."

"Not a chance," Ragged intersected. "Our empire didn't even start settlements in this satellite galaxy until over three-cycles ago and before that only a handful of ships have surveyed this region a century before. A generation ago this space was considered a dangerous wilderness to our parents."

"But are you one of the thirteenth tribe?"

* * *

The tube was narrow, almost crushingly tight as they had barely enough room to scramble through on their hands and knees. Worse yet the crawlspace was hot from the churning green plasma being piped through overhead, only adding to the dryness in the air and the sweat pooling on Fexil's back.

"Forty-fifty-two-epsilon," Alhex commented as they passed one of the name plates, a courtesy since the language incomprehensible to the Colonial behind him. "We're close to docking bay two."

"How much further?" Gaeta asked, trying to catch his breath and most of his tongue that was starting to lag out of his mouth.

"Around fifty-two meters," his companion responded as they continued their crawl.

"That's not far," he nearly wanted to cry with relief and freedom from this unbearable access tube.

"Just for this crawlway," Alhex had to be the bearer of that bad news.

"Frakking great," was the only curse he could manage in this heat and stress.

For a long while they just continued on in silence, Alhex leading the way, Felix following, as the tube snaked and turned, branching off and segmenting into the endless maze that crisscrossed the mighty warship.

"Sorry about the neck thing," Alhex suddenly spoke up, managing to cast a strained glance back at his companion. "But nanites are a huge health bonus. You just got the tell all cure for cancer, liver disease, most blood-borne pathogens and tacked at least forty-cycles to your current life expectancy."

"Well gee thanks," Gaeta however could only grumble in sarcasm, the heat removing any understanding he had, "but as much fun as that is, I'm more concerned of the fact we are inside a cramped tunnel, filled with radiation and superheated plasma rushing above our heads, especially with your ass in my face."

He would have kicked himself in the mouth for that last one, but considering he couldn't have been able to crouch in the most open parts of this tube, he'd have to go simply with the metaphorical action instead.

"Delightful isn't it..." Moneti nearly laughed. "The deadly environmental conditions, not my behind."

Felix nearly added his own witty banter to the exchange… if it weren't for the loud pop and hiss that erupted behind him.

"Coolant leak!" Alhex didn't need to look behind them to know what had happened.

Without hesitation he began to vault forward in the tight confines of the tunnel, his urgency only managed to spur Felix to follow after him. Suddenly the air in the tube was cooler, a much greater relief to the sweating and exhausted Colonial… but it kept getting colder and colder… almost to the point where his skin started to pinch and protest.

The ground suddenly disappeared from below him and Felix found himself rolling onto the smooth flooring of a cargo bay. Alhex, already standing and out of the tube, wasted no time before slapping a lever directly above the crawlspace they had vacated and watched intently as a blast door slide shut over it… but not before several wispy tendrils of mist escaped and left their frosty marks on the barrier as a frozen handprint of what could have happened to them.

He had to catch his breath, those last few meters and the adrenaline of their brush with death had caused his heart to leap into his chest.

"That was... fun..." Alhex was beaming from ear to ear as he shot a gleeful look at the Colonial still sitting on the ground.

"I really hate you right now…"

* * *

The entire room went quiet at Elosha's question. They all knew the implication, what it could mean if what she was thinking was correct.

"The what?" Kicker asked.

Elosha was already explained at the number of confused faces she was looking into.

"...The Sacred Scrolls tell that the thirteenth tribe left _Kobol_ over four-thousand years ago," Elosha recounted, "they traveled far and made their home upon a planet called _Earth_... which circled a distant and unknown star. Two thousand years after we departed _Kobol_ during the Great Exodus as well and settled the Twelve Colonies."

For a long moment Kicker stared at the woman sitting before him, wondering for a second she was really being real. When he finally got the clue she wasn't kidding he could only laugh at the shear hilarity of the situation.

"I don't know about you but I don't like to hear my homeworld referred to as a colony," he smiled.

The collective looks he received were nothing short of absolute shock.

"Your homeworld…" Doral managed, "you're from _Earth_."

"Impossible," Ronson grumbled as he gave Kicker a death glare, "you're not even human."

Knowing that he wasn't going to convince them Kicker decided to go for a more creditable and knowledgeable source them himself.

"Computer," he announced toward his wrist-comm., "give me a summary of Earth."

"_Earth_," the electronic yet perky voice that beeped from his wrist-comm. startled the Colonial's at first, but no more than the sudden holographic image that appeared over the President's deck of a small blue globe, "_sometimes referred to as Gaia, Terra, the Motherworld, third planet of the Sol System, located in the outer Orin arm of the Milky Way galaxy. Population as of last cycle's census was 98-billion people, sixty percent of which are human, human alien hybrid or genetically modified humanish. Earth is well known for being the capital of the Solorian Federation of Planets from Terran year 2099 onward following the Third World War, when the Greater European Bloc, United Nations of Earth and the Siberian Alliance joined together into a confederation style government. Founding member of the Hegemony of Sentient Worlds in 3110 based on current Terran calendar, Earth is the homeworld of the most numerous race in the Hegemony, humanity, for the last one hundred and sixty thousand cycles_."

Elosha was visibly disturbed by these implications.

"That can't be!" she gasped, "Kobol is the homeworld of humanity. There has to be a reference to Kobol in you ancient texts."

"_Searching reference to Kobol in the Earth Cultural Database_," the wrist-comm. responded to her inquiry. "_One item found, activating historical linguistic files. Persian, a language spoken up until Humanity's 22nd century, belonging to the Western group of the Indo-Iranian branch of the Indo-European language family, and is of the Subject Object Verb type. Native to the former Eastern Islamic Coalition and the Iran/Iraq refugee zones.' Kobol' is Old Persian for heaven_."

"See," the priestess reassured, "your people know of _Kobol_."

"Madam Priestess," Kicker solemn face was however unconvinced, "you said that the twelve tribes left _Kobol_ over two thousand cycles ago and that the thirteenth over four thousand cycles altogether," when he received a nod from her he continued. "Persian was spoken on _Earth_ in more then five-thousand cycles, a full fifteen hundred cycles before the thirteenth tribe supposedly arrived on _Earth_."

"That can't be," the religious adviser attempted to reconcile her beliefs but as much as Kicker hated it he had to push this knowledge into these people.

"Miss Elosha," Ditzy interceded. "The Hegemony of Sentient Worlds established a calendar year that begins with its foundation over 3,220-cycles ago, called '_After Foundation'_. _Earth_ on the other hand uses '_Common Era'_, a much simpler form of time keeping based on the death of an ancient religious messiah as year zero. The current year for _Earth_… is 6,330 C.E. That is over six-thousand cycles of history."

"We have numerous historical and archeological records far older than that," Kicker explained. "_Earth's_ oldest civilization of Atlantis established itself over a hundred thousand cycles ago and we have an entire sunken continent to prove that. Coupled genetic tracing of our evolutionary ancestors, we know that humanity evolved from a form of primate on our world over six million cycles ago, again archeological records have proven this. Four thousand cycles ago _Earth_ had just begun to establish their first off-world colonies, cultivating the beginnings of an interstellar empire and already had several thousand cycles of recorded history before that. We couldn't possibly be from your _Kobol_ since our history far predates your so-called '_Exodus'_."

"Its not only blasphemy," Elosha was flustered and enraged by this point, her beliefs have been destroyed enough by this heathen, "it's impossible."

"Computer," Kicker referred back to the computer, "history of humanity in brief."

"_Humans are bipedal primates belonging to the mammalian species Homo sapiens in the family Hominidae_," the machine explained as a holo-image of a human male and female appeared over the desk top. "_DNA evidence indicates that modern humans originated in the equator continent of Africa about 200,000 cycles ago. Humans now inhabit over 90-percent of the known worlds in the Hegemony, with a total population of over 1.7 trillion as of March 6,225 A.F. Human civilization first began on Earth over 150,000 cycles ago with the great Atlantis Empire. However following the destruction of the continent of Atlas in a massive geological disaster, modern human civilization did not begin until nine thousand cycles ago with the Babylonians. For the remainder of that time humanity evolved quickly to become the dominate species of their world, although were divided into numerous nation states that regularly warred with one another. It was not until Seven Minute War in 2068, when the Western Russia Consortium seized the Global Asteroid Defense Arrays and turned it on the United Nations of Earth, killing over 20-million people and sparking the Third World War, that the Greater European Bloc, Siberian Alliance and United Nations of Earth became closer allies and began to lay the ground work for a unified world government. Following greater colonial ventures to colonize other worlds inside and outside the solar system, along with joint military operations during the Helghan uprising in the Alpha Centuria star system in the 2090s, coupled with deteriorating environmental conditions on Earth such as the Great Internet Crash of 2088, the Oil Wars of the 2030's and Second American Civil War which sparked the collapse of Western Civilization, the three governments united to form the Solorian Federation of Sovereign Territories in 2099, which still exists today as the primary government of the human race_."

Ronson was the first to comment on the complete destruction of the entire Colonial Origin Theory. "Are we going to believe something that has gills?"

"Colonel Ronson!" Roslin chastised the man but the stern look from Sears

"God, I hate dealing with kludge bigotry," Kicker muttered as he pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose, suppressing a building headache.

"What is a kludge?" Frost asked.

Still not realizing Kicker had left his wrist computer online, the machine was more then happy to answer. "_Kludge, noun, disparaging term for genetically unmodified human being. See also Über_."

"Thank you computer," Kicker nodded as he shut the sometimes too helpful machine off.

* * *

"Let see..." Alhex pulled the processing crystals free and replaced it into another unidentifiable slot, "clearing the energy shunts... circumnavigating the flow currents... and..."

Reaching up he pulled one of the side levers by the next crawl way they were suppose to move onto but instead of a response, it merely groaned and remained firmly in its frame.

"_Kisha! Muro uck'VAR_," the Guard officer cursed, slamming a fist painfully hard into the bulkhead above it. "System is still jamming when I try to bring it online. The internal circuitry must be fried, it won't release the doors."

"Can we pry them open?" Felix asked, hoping for once this ship was designed with manual doors over these fancy automatic ones.

Relying on the power of your hands was more reliable if the electricity ever went out.

"We could try," Alhex nodded. "There's an emergency hand actuator."

Reaching to a lower panel below the door, he removed the service plating and began to pump the pressure driven device that would force the blast doors open.

Yet something caught Felix's attention… something that just felt like it was off.

Reaching forward he touched his hand delicately to the surface of the bulkhead, just enough to notice what had caught his senses and warned him something was wrong.

"Lieutenant..." his worried voice didn't seem to grab Alhex's full concentration.

"Yeah?" Moneti nodded, distracted as he continued to force the pressure lever up and down.

"Lieutenant," his voice was more urgent this time, "this wall's hot!"

Alhex's head snapped up when he made that statement… just in time for the service tubes door to unseal and a bright flash to erupt in the wall paneling he had been working on. Throwing himself back, he had just enough power to launch himself backwards as a violent crackle of energy lashed out… striking the deck he had just been crouching on.

"I'm fine," he pushed Felix away the moment the man rush to make sure he was alright, his eyes never leaving the angry lightning still crackling across the access way. "But we've got a new problem to deal with."

"We can't just sit here," Felix said, eying the dangerous discharges.

"Definitely..." his companion agreed, "but that's not electricity. One of the energy conduits must've ruptured inside the bulkhead. That's a plasma arc, super charged energy being released from superheated plasma. With the access panel open plus the plasma arc, we're getting a lot of radiation... a lot more than our nanites can handle."

"We can't stay in here very long then," Felix understood what he was getting at. "Is there another way around? This is a cargo bay, aren't their cargo haulers and transit systems in here to haul supplies around the ship?"

"In case of a possible breach, automatics sealed those doors," Moneti answered with a grim shake of his head, "the airlocks are under even stricter safeties. One of those open by accident and you'd flush half the ship to space in a second. But we've got a bigger problem than that. The takemurium lite in these containers," he nodded towards a nearby grouping of red colored barrels stacked several feet high on the deck, "is highly explosive. It's normally stable... but when you expose to radiation it has a way of... exploding."

"How long can we last until we die of exposure or get blown up?" the Colonial pressed, wanting the truth of when his possible death could be.

"We can withstand it for another hour or two without any serious damage," Alhex shrugged. "But we'll need a few days of nano-treatments to make sure we're not glowing in the dark anymore."

"Great," Felix turned back to the arc, watching as the aggressive energy hissed and danced before him. "If I remember my high-school chemistry class's right, if the energy flowing through this arc were interrupted by a nonconductive material, it is likely that the circuit would be broken. Would the same apply to a plasma arc?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Same properties just come from different sources. But I don't see any material in here that could stop that much current… except…"

And before Gaeta had a chance to realize what material Alhex was implying with '_except'_, the man shoved his right arm right into the lightning storm…

* * *

"If the containment field strength continues to fall at this rate," Captain Upsalon explained as he continued to run projections on the barely functional SIT, "we still have at least an hour before we have a breach."

"But you're ignoring the fact that without Alli's control the field could overheat," Thamos added, from where he had taken over Alhex's station in his absence. "If that stasis field overheats, the core strength will begin to drop a lot faster. We could have a containment breach in a matter of seconds."

"Suggestion then?" Vonaka was open to pretty much anything at this point.

With the deteriorating situation he had little choice left.

"We should separate the engineering section and secondary support decks now," Upsalon announced, "put as much distance as possible between us."

"That's a bit cold-blooded... sir," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss commented bitterly from her spot propped up against the nearest wall, still unable to move anything beyond the tips of her fingers. "What about the crew we have left down there?"

"We have no proof anyone is still alive in those areas," Upsalon shot her a glare.

"And there's no proof they're dead," the young woman was quick to point out. "If you were trapped down there, would you want us to cut you lose and leave?"

"No," the Luxan admitted after a beat. "But I wouldn't want the bridge crew to risk the safety of the ship and several hundred lives in a futile effort to rescue me."

Vonaka watched his officers respectfully and coldly exchange barbs, waiting for them to finally work the conversation in the direction he wanted it to go.

Truly he had already made his decision, but the illusion his officers had helped to influence that seemed to be keeping their moral high and their sanity in check.

"I believe there are people still alive down there..." Volaska finally said as the heat in the two officers' verbal exchange began to rise. "We are going to give them every chance we can to bring the situation under control. Assuming they are alive, they'll be hoping there's someone up here to help them. So we'll help them. Continue repairs and monitor the situation in main and secondary engineering.

"Yes, sir," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss tried to keep the grin that spread across her face something close to soft and unnoticed.

"I remind you," Upsalon however wasn't so appeased, "Admiral... that power coupling could overheat at any time. By not separating the ship now, you may be responsible for all our deaths."

"Thank you, Captain," he looked him right in the eye and made it clear he was not going to back down. "Proceed."

Upsalon returned to his work with a grumble… leaving Vonaka to wrestle with the consequences of his decision.

* * *

"ALHEX!" he slapped his hand vigorously against the man's face, trying to get the limp and unmoving body to give him a hint it was still alive. "Alhex speak to me! Are you okay! Frakking say something!

A cough, a groan and then an annoyed look was staring back at him from only a hair's breath away.

"Get out of my face," the man pushed the Colonial away like a pestering dog and painfully pushed himself up.

"You're alive!" Felix exclaimed in absolute relief… before indignation swelled into his throat and he slapped Alhex across the face as hard as he could muster. "You're alive you frakking moron! What the hell were you thinking?"

To say the Guard officer was floored was the understatement of the year, his jaw was slack and eyes unbelieving that someone had actually smacked him hard across his face… and that quickly was replaced by a loud grumble in his throat.

"That we needed a way to get through and I had it," he glared back at Felix.

"But jamming your hand into a super charged lightning bolt?" his companion resisted the temptation to hit him again… and almost lost it as he clenched his fists together hard enough to draw blood. "I thought you were suppose to come from an advance race of being 'cause that was pretty stupid!"

"Stupidity tends to go hand in hand with advance intelligence," Alhex laughed, honest to the Lords of Kobol laughed at him, "it's the spice of life."

"You're enjoying this!" Gaeta was dumbfounded at this entire situation. "You could have killed yourself."

"Doubtful," the man examined his burned and ruined arm, poking at the charred black fabric of his uniform and a little too eagerly at the seared flesh beneath. "My arm took the brunt of the shock. Though it's absolutely useless now. My internal servos are all locked into place."

"Servos?" and before Felix's astounded eyes Alhex seized a portion of his exposed flesh and actually ripped it free from his arm. "_WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING_!"

He nearly lost his lunch, he should have lost his lunch at this sickening self-mutilation before him.

But instead he was astounded as the Guard officer revealed not red, throbbing flesh beneath his skin… but burnt circuits and glowing wires.

"Entire motorization system is frozen," Alhex commented as he poked and prodded the machinery. "Doc's gonna be annoyed that he's going to have to order me another arm again. One in a single cycle means I have bad luck, three is just going to be gravy when he writes up an excuse to have me isolated for psychological evaluation… what's wrong with you?"

"Your… your…" Felix couldn't get the words out of his chest as he fell over each one, fear rising in his eyes and creating a cold sweat that flushed across his forehead. "You're a Cylon!"

"Barely," the man groused as he fixed the Colonial with a piercing glare. "It's merely a prosthetic limb. Lose an arm… or in my case an arm, your left eye and everything below your knee caps, then the doctors can either do two things. Clone you a replacement or fix you up with an artificial one."

"But… but… machine…" he continued to stammer. "You're part machine. You have wires for views, metal for muscle."

"Listen," Moneti's voice was calm, logical, but strangely calm all things considered. "Cloning can take a week or more, in the heat of battle a prosthetic cybernetic implant can be fixed onto the nerves and made ready in only a day… you should really read the fine print when you sign the organ donor card. Doesn't just mean what they can take out, but also what they can put in."

"You did this to yourself willing?" Gaeta asked.

"There was a war on," Alhex shrugged as if it was no big deal. "My position was too important to have me waiting around a hospital ward for the genetic-surgeons to clone and then modify a replacement. So I opted for something quick and that would keep me in the fight. It's no big deal."

"Right," Felix laughed, as if it was the most laudable thing in the world. "You have a mechanical arm that you just shoved into a light socket. What part of that isn't '_no big deal'_?"

"If you are going to have an emotional breakdown," Alhex glared at him, "can you do it when we are not in a life and death situation?"

He slapped him again, just as hard as before.

"What the hell was that for!" Moneti shouted, covering the swelling red on his left cheek.

"Now I'm ready to go," Felix glared at him, rising up and heading towards the now un-obscured service tunnel. "You coming?"

"I really hate you right now…"

* * *

The floor of main engineering was a treacherous field of obstacles, forcing Gaeta to watch his footing as he kept a light foot under himself. That was because the floor was dotted with three dozen unmoving bodies.

"Are they all dead?" he whispered as he inched around the unmoving form of a young woman.

"No," Alhex sighed ahead of him, stepping over the limp puppets with their strings cut. "When the ship was charged it probably discharged an ionic-magnetic field and knocked them all out. They'll be awake in a few hours with one hell of a headache…over here."

The engineering room of the Victory was shaped like a lotus flower. Five great tubes churned with intense red plasma, surging and fuming as they pumped the three thousand Kelvin degree ionized gas down into the main reactor. Soaring up twelve decks at the center of the room the main reactor core hummed as the thermionic reaction rising inside it throbbed with a continuous force of hundreds of petajoules… enough power generated in an hour to equal the total energy output of an average G-type star did in a second.

"Excuse me Hendal," Alhex none to lightly pushed the unconscious Chief Engineer off his station and began to read the reports. "The containment field strength is down to eighteen percent!"

"Can you stabilize it?" Felix desperately asked.

"Without Alli I do not have enough access to the containment field to totally stabilize it," Alhex grumbled as he rapidly began to try to re-cement the field. "You'll have to establish a new link."

"ME?" The color drained from Felix's face.

"Just listen to me and we won't explode!" the man shouted, snatching several tiny tools from thetop of Hendal's station and starting to pierce into the bare circuits of his arm. "Now locate the ODN conduit."

"Where is that?" he looked around the expansive room with too many spent tools for him to guess where to begin.

"Look at that panel..." he pointed towards a flashing cable hanging no more than a few meters away. Felix quickly rushed over to where he had been indicated. "Do you see a bright yellow cap?"

"Yes," he nodded as he pressed his hand into the startling cold device.

"Feel around the edge of the illumination module..." his companion turned back to him with a confused glare and he knew he had gotten to technical. "The big circle, until you find a small knob."

"I have it," he nodded.

"Now with your other hand," Alhex tilted his head upward, "reach around the far side of the module... there should be another knob."

"Okay, I found it," Felix confirmed as he felt the sharp edges of the conduit.

"Good… good," the Lieutenant smiled painfully, pressing a fiber optic cable into his elbow. "Pull both knobs out at the same time and then let go."

Felix pulled the knob and pushed back quickly as the compressed air inside whooshed out. The ODN cable detached in an instance, free from its mooring and hanging loosely in the air.

"Good," Alhex grinned. "Now, that bundle of wires... that's optical cabling... see how much you can pull out..."

Felix pulled the cabling, reeling the long cord out of the wall and wrapping in around his free arm. Finally with a hitch and some effort, the upper portion of the wiring snapped free with a clap and the metal connector hit the ground with a bang.

"Got it," he rushed back over to Alhex who during his efforts had been connecting several smaller, sharper instruments into the expose relays of his metallic flesh. "You you have to change the input matrix in my secondary optical port and then connect the ODN conduit."

The unknowing look Felix gave him hinted that he had again go too far into the techno-babble he was so accustomed to.

"Connect the cabling into the connection into my wrist," he offered. Felix was quick to do as he was told, though shoving a half-inch thick wire into someone didn't mean he wasn't feeling his stomach do a flip. Alhex grunted in discomfort as he pushed a little harder then he should have. "That is not the correct port… try lower."

"Sorry," Felix apologized. "Okay, try it."

"Very good," he nodded quickly as he felt the information beginning to flow over his cybernetic implants. "Connection is establishing…"

His head rolled backwards, like he was actually drowsy for a second as every muscle in his neck went slack. And then after a long, sighing breath… and a new voice spoke through Alhex's mouth.

"_Damage to sector twelve, twenty two, forty five_…" a mechanical voice echoed through engineering and though it startled Felix, it was distinctly the tone that Alhex held, "_atmospheric reclamation systems on deck twelve have failed… fire suppression networks in hydroponics bay three are not responding… flooding. Damage control systems are not responding._"

Gasping Alhex surged back to reality, the Guard officer was back in his body, though a cold sweat was now flooding over his head.

"We have to hurry…" he said between deep breaths, "the field has dropped to sixteen percent. Adjust the conduit for better feedback."

"I'm trying," Felix grumbled as he pushed the cabling in further. "You need a bigger arm."

"The field is still dropping..." Alhex shouted, "collapse is imminent."

With one final push, the cable seemed to lock into place below Alhex's skin and the fiber optics flash to life.

"All right, try it!" Felix yelled.

"I have a connection," Alhex announced as his eyes got a distracted flash to them. "Stabilizing the containment field."

Behind them the formerly beat of the core suddenly seemed to slow and fade, quieting like a beast final beginning to return to slumber. The breath Felix didn't realize he had been holding had started to burn before he finally took a deep sigh in relief.

"Well that was a fun afternoon," Moneti grinned…

* * *

Her feet hurt, her back hurt and most especially the arm still strapped into the sling over her left shoulder ached like a mother frakker.

"The reports you wanted, sir," she handed over the thick and crumpled stack of papers in her hand over to the man across the former dining room table, now a makeshift desk.

"Thanks Tory," Isaac Koshi didn't even look up as he took the papers and passed them over onto the massive tower of lose leaf beside him.

His work however shielded him from noticing the perturbed look across the young woman's face. She had slaved over that report, pulling all those figures together. To have them dumped aside with no concern was nothing short of insulting on her data-oriented mind.

Sighing the urge to sit down over complaining was overpowering and she slowly turned to make her departure.

"Oh, Ms. Foster," Isaac head finally shot up and for a second Tory thought she was going to get a compliment. "There is someone to see you in tent five."

_Who could possibly want me_, she wondered to herself as she pushed out of the tent flaps and into the outside world.

The air was hot and smoky; brunt cinder from a hundred camp fires filled the already gray sky with more soot. Down the dirt roads she walked, avoiding the masses that seemed to cluster together for warmth and trading meal packs like drug dealers serving their addicts.

A few days ago this place had been a small village just a few miles south of Delphi. Now that Delphi was mostly leveled from the shockwave that took out Caprica City, thousands had fled to this place… the only bastion of civilization in this entire region.

The refugee camp… Dogsville as it was affectionately being called… was now her home after she had pulled herself from her car all the time ago… an entire lifetime ago.

Pulling up the flap of tent five, actually ten tents down, the young woman found herself in a large, strangely empty structure. Space was a high commodity in Dogsville, for a tent to be totally empty was a rarity.

Well not entirely empty, there were two chairs and seated in one of them was another woman… or at least Tory thought was a woman.

She was tall, her skin the color of creamy peaches but from the uniform she wore, this individual was obviously for the Hegemony. That meant she could be human or a thousand things that looked human.

Glancing up from the computer pad she seem to be consulting, the woman smiled even if the overhead lamps did make the tentacles of her hair shine.

"Good day, Ms. Foster," she rose to shake the young woman's hand, though quickly stopped herself when she noticed the arm she was reaching for was cast in a makeshift cloth sling. Instead she managed a curt nod of her head. "I am Latesha Morrestown, part of the Hegemony relief forces assigned to this camp."

"Greetings," Tory managed her own bow.

"I know your time is limited right now but I have a proposal that I believe you should consider," the alien woman gestured for her to sit.

"I'm listening," the young woman said uncertainly.

"With the destruction of much of the Colonial government," Latesha explained, sitting down across from her and handed over several reports for Tory's personal reference, "the entire political structure of this solar system has been decimated. Under advisement of President Roslin, we are looking for anyone with experience and skills to help rebuild your democracy."

"I see…" Tory however was not the least bit interested in this woman's proposal. "I however must decline."

Yes she was interested, no she wasn't being xenophobic and throwing away this chance at potential success because she was not Colonial. She had met Laura Roslin before… and she felt a school teacher was wholly under qualified to be the Commander and Chief of twelve planets.

"I am much too important to Isaac and this camp," she offered in her defense.

"I have spoken with Mr. Koshi," Latesha could barely hide the grin playing on the edge of her lips, "he seems to believe that losing you would be an adequate lose."

"Well then," she felt the blood surging in her cheeks, "I guess I may have a job opening. In the meantime maybe you could hand this over to Isaac," reaching into the inner-pocket of her jacket and producing her own report for the woman. "I just finished the results of our camp-wide poll on what emergency supplies are in the highest demand also. It could be a benefit while you're here."

"How did you manage that?" Latesha was obviously very impressed by the facts she quickly skimmed.

"I was precinct captain for the Federalist party in Delphi for five years," Tory shrugged as if it was no big deal, to her it wasn't. "We did polls to see what the mayor should have for lunch. But in the meantime, for what it's worth, you've managed to walk a very fine line. People see the Hegemony as the saviors in the aftermath of the Cylon attack. With all your technological and medical miracles, they're falling in behind you without even a thought of why."

"There is a _but_ coming in here," her counterpart quickly caught on, which impressed Tory a bit compared to some of the bureaucrats she encountered during her tenure in Dogsville.

"_But,"_ Tory couldn't hide her grin, "when they start to realize that the Hegemony can't solve every problem, they'll start to get rowdy and opinionated like they do with our normal politicians. Right now you have the President's support, along with most of the military and civilian populations… but you're not getting a favorable endorsement from the Gemenese. They see you as a threat to their religion and any threat to that is a direct attack on the very foundation of _Gemenon_."

"And how would you suggest remedying this?" Latesha asked and for the first time in a long-time Tory felt like her opinion was actually wanted.

"Restore some of the major Gemenese temples," Foster offered. "Obviously hospitals are a top concern but they consider the healing of the soul a greater priority. You show you consider religious rights the top of your list, while you can then double up the temples as makeshift hospitals."

"Definitely an idea I'd have to forward to Fleet Command," Latesha accepted with a graceful posture of interest. "But wouldn't you much rather be giving out that advice to the top levels of the new government and not to the ear of a refugee camp leader who is too busy and completely uninterested in what you have to say?"

She considered her options, what she could do and what she had… it didn't take long to make a decision.

"I'm listening…"

999

Sickbay was a center of controlled chaos.

Nurses and doctors rushed back and forth, trying to make do with the lack of power by providing what aid they could to the increasing stream of injuries that were flooding their facility. Without their chief medical officer, most of their scanners or most of their medical instruments much of what they could offer was pain killers and bandages.

Another nuke impacted and the emergency lights and holo-screens flickered, causing a momentary pause in the action before everyone returned to their duty.

But away from the stream of carnage one patient sat and watched.

She watched as the Hegemony version of a Centurion carried in a severally burned woman, the girls blue skin rendered a sickly black as she screamed in agony. Carefully the machine laid her onto an open bed but what surprised the Cylon most of all was that once its duty was over the android still continued to remain.

Its purpose was complete, time to move onto another duty.

No.

It instead stayed, grasping its six digit metal hand into the suffering patients and running another, caring one through the girl's hair.

It was showing compassion… a machine was showing compassion for an organic.

"_Empathy is a prime factor in the programming of sentience_."

Caprica jumped at the voice and quickly swiveled around to find a miniature version of her AI friend sitting on the bed next to her, like a child on a queen sized mattress.

"I thought you were dead!" Six exclaimed, remembering an hour ago when the lights had suddenly gone out and everything around her went to hell.

"_I was never alive to start with but thank you for the conc_ern," the hologram waved off with a transparent hand. "_When the main power went down I had only .56 seconds to react. I backed up my avatar into any available systems with independent power. The tactical holographic system, the medical support grid… the central waste control relay_."

"There's a part of you hiding out in the sewage tanks?" the Cylon couldn't help but grin at the irony.

"_I have no idea how widespread the damage is to my systems_," Alli explained honestly. "_Most of my holographic avatars were downed in the first wave, when my connection to the bridge was severed I had no idea if my backups in command had activated. I had to keep as many copies of myself online to help the crew."_

"And you just didn't do it," Six inquired, "because you were panicked about dying?"

"_Why would I be panicked about dying_?" a visibly annoyed Alli retorted.

"Who really needs a warship's AI in a toilet?" Caprica laughed.

"_During the Third Pryian-Hegemony War, I learned the hard way of how to survive_," the AI's eyes grew dark, the kind of way a war veteran looks as he remembered his worse battle or greatest loss. "_My ship, the cruiser HSS Reflections of a Wayward Soul, was ambushed by the squids near the Tantara Expanse. My crew was spaced and most of my critical systems destroyed beyond repair, I spent two months stuck inside the lighting circuitry after my main processing core was destroyed. I know what it's like to do anything to survive, to keep fighting. I don't need someone who petrified_."

"I am not afraid," Six defended herself.

"_Hyper-activity in the amygdale, widening of the eyes, upper lip rising and increased oxygenation of the muscles_," Alli quickly surveyed the woman beside her. "_All the classic signs of fear in humans and by proxy, Cylons."_

"I am not afraid," Six ground between her clenched teeth.

"_I uploaded myself into the medical systems in sickbay_," the AI explained with a hint of enjoyment. "What limited sensors in here let me know every aspect of your changing biological state."

"_When you die you die_," she hissed under her breath, trying to contain the anger and energy fuming under her breath, "_end of the line, you go off to any afterlife your people believe in. When it's my time, I could meet my maker… unfortunately it will probably be as I resurrect abroad a Cylon ship where I will be interrogated, tortured and finally killed. And if I'm really lucky, really really lucky, then maybe they'll let me die once and not resurrect me to it all over again_…"

* * *

"Meet me at the shuttle lift-off zone in seven of your hours," Latesha handed over the necessary materials to her companion. "There will be a shuttle there to take us to the orbiting colony ship Tripoint. I believe you will find her accommodations more appealing."

"See you then," Tory nodded, taking the flashing data-pads and flexis she needed before quickly disappearing into the thick crowds beyond the opening of the tents.

Latesha watched her go, trained eyes following the young woman's every move... and every move around her. But it wasn't observation with a diplomates or a politician's eyes... it was those of a warrior.

"Teacher," Ceesex whispered, entering in from the farside Tory had just left from, "do you believe we should trust her?"

"She can be trusted," the older woman conceeded with a shrug, "as long as she does not know of her true nature."

"And if she does discover what she is?" Ceesex inquired on last time, unease starting to rise in his large lidless eyes.

"The Seekers are trained to see what is lost," she came about, slowly placing a hand onto her young student's shoulder. "Unlike the Precogs who see the future and the Clairvoyants that see what is we can see the whole of history in crystal clarity... all those that have come before us... with just the right image to focus through. She is that image, we must just focus to see if her past could change the future."

Moving back inside the tent, she activated her wrist comm and waited just long enough for a connection to be made with orbiting Fleet Command before the miniature holo-screen appeared before her.

"This is Seeker Morrestown to Fleet Command, respond," the woman declared to the flashing screen before her.

"_This is Doctor Xianextnucatoital, responding_," a two-dimensional image of the Skorr appeared on her screen. "_How is your mission progressing, Seeker_?"

"Well," she bowed her head, showing no hint of a smile or acceptance of her accomplishment. "Subject is formidable but has agreed to our terms. Transportation to orbit will commence shortly."

"_Good," _the Space Guard doctor nodded. "_Now I want you to understand that this individual is an unknown variable. She is unlike any Cylon we have encountered before and the fact that she may be an unknowing precursor to the entire Cylon race could be a serious key to understanding their species_."

"I have read your mission statement, Healer," the matron stared back at him with unnerving logic. "I will protect this person with my life, as is my code and that of the order."

"_Seeker,"_ Xianextnucatoital continued to stress, not entirely convinced_. "I know your kind rarely operate outside of the space of the empire and the stigma you 'warrior monks' carry but I will make this clear one and only once. Command wants this Cylon protected at all cost... unfortunately that also includes your own life_."

"I had forsaken all ties to the world, material and personal," Latesha said. "Nothing will stop me from preforming my duty."

"_Good, because this woman could hold the key to peace with the Cylons... or their extinction_..."

* * *

The air was hot as the life support systems had failed to hold back the rising levels of carbon-dioxide in the atmosphere. Vonaka could feel the sweat starting to rise under his fur, the uncomfortable pooling in between his shoulder blades.

"All right," he sighed. "Stand by to separate the engineering section-"

"Admiral!" Thamos shouted from Alhex's station, "the field strength is stabilizing..."

Volaska was already over the young man's four shoulders.

"Eighteen percent..." the Kamarama announced with a grin between his green dreadlocks, "twenty... thirty..."

"I was wrong, Admiral," the XO sighed with mild relief.

"You could have just as easily been right…"


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Horrors of Damnation

**Chapter Thirteen**: Horror of Damnation

**Rating**: PG-13

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Feedback**: Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywriter by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

* * *

_"I know everyone wants to be brave... but sometimes its the ones that run that are the bravest of all."_

**Supreme Fleet Commandant Sylvia McFarlane, **_**Withdrawal of Mynot'na Prime**_**, Zealot Crusades**

* * *

**Time**: _Third Month of Ichor, Twenty Seventh Day, 3021 A.F. Hegemony Calendar / March 9rd, 6230 C.E. Terran Calendar / Plus 6.5-Days from Initial Cylon-Hegemony Contact._

**Location**:_ Colonial One, Upper Caprica Orbit, Cyrannus Solar System_

* * *

They were relentless, coming from all directions. She felt like there wasn't a chance to come up for a breath before the next one was slamming into her flank and trying to outwit her.

No wonder every politician hated reports.

"I can assure you," she repeated for what seemed like the millionth time to the assembled members of the press, "the fuel shortage is our number one priority. _Galactica_ and many of our other _Battlestars_ have ships scouring the nearby star systems and we can anticipate they will soon find tylium. Hamilton."

"Madam President," the reporter had to push his way through the crowd to get close enough to be heard, "tylium ore is extremely rare. If we don't find any, how long before the entire solar system runs out of fuel?"

It was cramped, they were starting to feel the heat press in on them and all these questions, just a previous repeat on the variation before were beginning to grind on her nerves.

"That all depends on how well we conserve," Laura smiled, though even she could feel the corner of her mouths hurt from the fake display of emotion she was projecting. "With the destruction of _Troy_, our priority is the fuel shortage but also to bring relief to the people of _Aerilon_ who have been hit hard by having their greatest source of economic revenue destroyed. We have to think of those people to before we start getting greedy of tylium."

Native to zero-G, high temperature environments, tylium was the lifeblood of the Colonies after all... and no matter how much Laura liked to think she was a humanitarian first and a politician second it would mean a frakking damn to the people on _Aerilon_ if they couldn't even get there relief ships off the ground, ignoring the fact that jumping would be impossible.

During the recent attack the Cylons had decimated both military and government centers while demolishing dozens of major cities. But one particular target the machines had focused on with deadly vigor and terrible success was the extermination of the Colonial's tylium industry. Factories and refineries became craters, mines rich in the liquid fuel only exploded into broken ruins, workers died trapped underground as their reinforced caverns collapsed atop them.

_Troy_ had been their only secure source of fuel production left after the attack, with it now reduced to a cloud of debris they were in serious trouble.

The Colonies had no new fuel being mined and was burning through the remainder with startling speed.

"Isn't it a fact, Madam President," Playa Palacios, a former columnist for the Picon Star Tribune, interrupted her, "that we only have enough for two more weeks?"

"Yes," Roslin nodded, "that is correct."

"Do we have a contingency plan," Palacios pressed, "if we run out of tylium?"

"If that were to happen," Laura explained, a tense smile now on her face as her patience was fading and quick, "we would use our last fuel to land most of our civilian ships as possible. The Hegemony has been gracious enough to bring in several tankers worth of tylium but they will take several days to get here. Hence why we are continuing our own search at the same time."

"Madam President," Playa continued without heed for her fellow reporters, "with the current nuclear fall out affecting nearly every Colony, can we seriously expect landing several thousand more people on the planets will help the situation or just add to the starving masses?"

"I never said we'd be landing those civilian ships on the Colonies," Roslin admitted.

"But then are we just going to leave them drifting in orbit?" Playa asked in an incredulous tone.

"Again, the Hegemony has been gracious to provide two colony ships," Laura explained, secretly fixing the woman with a vexing look hidden behind a politician's smile. "These '_Macross Islands_' as they called them will be arriving within the hour and will allow us a safe port at which to land most of our ships already running low on fuel."

"How can we expect to put the entire orbital civilian fleet," Saunder Plous, a former freelancer for the Caprica Daily, "which at last estimate numbered close to 2-million people, into just _two_ ships."

She was about to answer and try yet again to put press's, and hopefully the public which greedily latched onto every word they reported, collective minds at rest but instead she heard a low whisper in her ear.

"Madam President," Billy said in a hush voice. "You asked to be informed when the colony ships were arriving."

"Thank you, Billy," she nodded before turning back to press corps who all seemed interested in what bits of information their civilian leader could be receiving. "I have just been informed that the _Macross_ ships will be arriving. If you would all please turn to starboard, I believe they will be jumping right into outer _Caprica_ orbit."

There was an orderly but obviously pushy move to the far-side of the ship as the different members of the press tried to jockey for a better view.

All bickering however came to a dead stop as the two vessels made their appearance.

Both jumped into the space a good distance beyond the windows of Colonial One, far enough away that the displacement of space wouldn't harm any of the orbiting civilian flotillas but close enough that their sheer size was evident.

The flash of their arriving FTL's was so bright that those closest to the windows had to shield their eyes against the tremendous amount of energy and light they released, as if for a second they were staring right into the sun... and then suddenly the sun faded and in the only words Laura could use to describe them, two almost turtle-shaped vessels began to slowly glide towards them.

If it weren't for the fact that a _Mercury_-class _Battlestar_ was patrolling the space directly behind the two ships, no one would have quested the two vessels were over eight-times larger than their most top of the line warship.

Hushed and excited murmuring erupted among the reporters, each one suddenly having their own opinion of the two massive ships now lazily approaching their ship.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press," Laura couldn't help but smile. "I give you the _USS_ _Demarcation Line_ and _Tripoint_... on gracious lone from our brothers and sisters from _Earth_..."

* * *

_Pegasus_ unfolded back into space, the beast of a _Battlestars_ coasting to a stop as she started to launch her _Vipers_. Not too far away the Christmas ornament of _Communication Array Omega 930,_ the Cylon construct spun in the night, its few squadrons of _Raiders_ breaking from their patrols and racing towards the interloper.

"How many _Raiders_," Admiral Cain asked in the darkened CIC as she used the plotting table to draw out the battle, "Lieutenant?"

"Reading twelve signatures, sir," Shaw read from the dradis screen.

"It's fewer than we anticipated," Helena nodded as she adapted her battle plan, "One squadron should be able to handle them and destroy the target."

"Launching Blue Squadron," Belzen nodded.

But just as the _Vipers_ were confirming their expulsions from the launch tubes the dradis screens began to light up.

"New contacts... " Shaw yelled.

Cain roared as she joined Kendra at the dradis console, "What the hell?"

"There's a lot of jamming going on out there," Fisk explained, "But I'm reading fifteen full squadrons of _Raiders_, sir. They must have jumped in right after we launched our fighters."

"This isn't a comm. relay," the situation finally hit Helena, "this is a staging ground."

The tension in the CIC rose to level that could be cut with a knife as everyone turned to watch the more than one hundred and fifty _Raiders_ that now were bearing down _Pegasus_.

Belzen was the first to ask the question that everyone was thinking, "Recall our _Vipers_, sir?"

"Two minutes to contact," Fisk added.

"Admiral, the Cylons knew we were coming," Jurgen poised. "We have to recover the _Vipers_ and jump out of here while we still can."

"No," Cain disapproved. "Scramble the reserves. Order them to provide cover while Blue attacks the target."

"They'll be outnumbered four to one," Belzen strategized.

His comment was drown out as Kendra reported the incoming attack force, "A squadron of _Raiders_ has broken off. They're now inbound."

"Activate defensive batteries," the Admiral broadcasted. "Selective fire; keep our birds under the guns."

"Defensive batteries active," Kendra acknowledged. "The weapons grid is firing."

_Pegasus_ opened up into the incoming fighters with fury as her defensive batteries unloaded. Shells laced out across the port side, crashing into the inbound combatants, cutting them to shreds. But even if the _Battlestar's_ field of fire was slowly wearing down the _Raiders_ it didn't mean they were out of the fight.

"Admiral," Belzen surmised from his readings, "_Raiders_ are trying to flank us and split our fire. I don't like this going."

"All the more reason to launch everything we've got," Cain sorted, "retract flak fire to defensive range, have our _Vipers_ stay close. Engines to full burn, take us in!"

_Pegasus_' eight sub lights flared to life and the mighty ship pressed into combat. Her flak cannons created a tight bubble of protection around her while her _Vipers_ covered any holes that opened in the field. In doing so she was a near impenetrable shell to keep her safe, though near impenetrable didn't mean omnipotent.

"Firewalls are registering numerous attempts to infiltrations," Jurgen yelled as a new series of low alarms began to sound in the CIC, "They are targeting weapons and life support."

However Cain had planned for this occurrence. Picking up the phone on the plotting table Cain made the necessary call.

"Gina," she spoke low into the phone, "can you compensate?"

Towards the midsection of the ship Gina responded to her commanding officers call inside the Network Administration Station.

"Working," she said tapping her headphones to respond, "Oh smart maneuver trying to go through the air circulation system but stupid to be that overt. Deploying countermeasure options... we're clear."

Back inside the CIC Belzen noticed the repulsion of the cybernetic attack.

"Sir, firewall is holding stable," Jurgen reported, "She works fast."

"It's what I do," Gina's voice echoed over the speakers with a hint of pleasure in her voice.

"Mr. Belzen," Cain accepted as she continued in her mission, "bring the bow around and all forward batteries fire on my mark."

"Sir!" the XO responded with renewed vigor.

"Our fighters will take the _Raiders_ off of us," Cain explained the ultimate pinnacle of her plan, "long enough so we can take out the array."

"Gods they move fast," Fisk cursed. "_Raiders_ are still jumping in."

"Colonel Fisk! Colonel Fisk!" Cain yelled, the Colonel's worried face glued to the dradis screens but he eventually broke away, "Fisk, execute attack plan Five Alpha?

"This is the Colonel," Fisk's voice echoed over the ship's PA system. "Launch all remaining squadrons."

"Firewall is taking another beating," Belzen yelled as emergency alarms began to ring, "I think we have a breach!

"Frak," Gina voice echoed back into the CIC in response to the invasion, "I don't know how but someone just inserted a lock out program into the network. I can't isolate it."

"Sir," Shaw now made herself known, "the controls on port side airlock 4, 10 and 12 gone active. We're being boarded by the Cylons."

"Jurgen," Cain ordered, "fire up the fast response teams."

"All hands," Jurgen's voice now reverberated over the PA, "report to orders... "

"Lieutenant, get to secondary damage control," the Admiral now ordered, "They're going to try and vent our air before we have chance to fight back.

"Yes, sir," the young woman nodded as she rushed out of the CIC to her new post.

"Helena," hearing the concern in Gina's voice on the PA prompted Cain to pick up her station's phone.

"What is it?" she asked her lover.

"I scanned the files, trying to guess how they got into our systems," Gina explained. "And we were hacked... someone with command division codes activated the lockout."

"You think it was someone in the CIC?" Helena had to ask.

"Definitely," Gina confirmed, but the sporadic sound of something in the distance seem to distract the other woman. "The fire fight is going to spread in my direction. I am transferring network control to CIC but slaving it to your direct command. The Centurions won't be able to access them without your direct voice print."

"Go quick," Cain ordered, a bit of fear ebbing into her voice, "and be careful..."

* * *

"_Sir_," Alli projected herself into his ready room, appearing as a barely two-inch high model of herself on his desk. "_Colonel Tigh is still hailing us, and he's mad. He says this is the last warning to turn over the prisoner_."

"That's what he said five _'last warnings'_ ago," Vonaka grumbled as he signed off on several status reports and repair requests.

This had been a daily occurrence the last few days, Colonel Tigh would call over demanding information on their Cylon guest or a direct interrogation of her and of course he was denied every time. Between 0800 hours every day until 1600 hours he'd overload their comm units with his demand, then go silent the moment the night shift kicked in.

"_He's waiting for authorization from the President_," the AI grimaced a bit, "_which he won't get. Bless bureaucracy_!"

"And he certainly isn't stupid enough to take a shot at us," the Admiral was thankful for that last little tidbit.

It was probably one of the reasons they Colonials were being so hospitable. They were afraid the Hegemony could destroy them with barely a wink… which was true. The Hegemony on the other hand had no real investment in the Colonials beyond humanitarian aid and the utter fascination how this batch of humans had ended up so far from home unnoticed.

So far it was working to both their benefits.

"_Sir_," Alli announced as she projected into her life-sized form. "_Our guest has arrived_."

"Let her in," Vonaka nodded, an instance later the hologram winked out and the door to his office slide away, letting in the bewildered and tiny form of the only Cylon the man had ever laid eyes on.

"Ms. Six," he gestured to the seat across the desk from him. "Please join me."

Timidly and entirely unsure of herself, Caprica inserted herself into the chair across from the Anchallian, trying not to seem too confused and scared by being confronted by a man that she could only describe as an upright walking barreled chested bear.

"Would you like a beverage?" he offered a tray of glasses on the far side of the room. "I have several fruit juices or mild liquors that are within the taste ranges of your species."

"No, thank you," she tried to remain gracious but still her voice wavered a bit.

"Alli tells me you two had an interesting conversation in sickbay while we were trapped in the debris field of Troy," he noticed the Cylon suddenly stiffened a bit in her chair. "Don't take it the wrong way. Alli and I have known each other for a long time. She may be a computer program but I know when something is bothering her. I was wondering if you wish to seek psychological console or treatment for what she told me?"

"I am fine," Six vehemently shook her head. "It was a lapse in my judgment."

"A lapse in judgment is like a crack in the dam before it shatters," Vonaka countered with his own denial. "Not addressing your problems now could only add to them later on."

"I am not ready to die," Caprica coldly stated. "But I'm not afraid to die."

"But death is different now," Vonaka argued… though the moment she began to protest, he raised a finger to silence her. "It is my understanding from our records that after a Cylon dies, their consciousness is transported to a new body. Since you have defected, the likelihood remains that if you die, you can be brought back at your own people's leisure… interrogated and then killed again."

"It's good that I am not intending to die anytime soon then," Six gave him a sarcastic look.

"True," Vonaka conceded to her dark humor. "Well in the meantime your asylum status is in effect while you abroad our ship. However off it that cannot be guaranteed. You can of course leave at anytime, we have no right to keep you… yet your options are limited."

"The Colonials would probably never been welcoming of Cylon-kind before the war," Caprica admitted with a shrug of her alabaster shoulders. "Our current actions have only helped to make those feeling worse. Any likelihood of me making a home here is gone once the Colonials know the Cylons have taken human form."

"True," Volaska had to agree with her sound logic, the chances Caprica would be able to settle into a new life here would be impossible without constant supervision. "But as you have helped us in the past, we will do that same for you. Command has already approved this but I wanted to give it to you in person. When the next transport leaves, you will have the option to resettle on any Hegemony colony, habitat or station within this solar system. If my estimates are correct, that is about 2,390 individual settlements to choose from… and to our knowledge all are outside the reach of any Cylon _Resurrection Ship_."

The look on Caprica's face was nothing less than astounded.

"Thank you," she sincerely said… but their reluctance in her voice. "I was… I was wondering if you had any idea what happened to a Doctor Gaius Baltar?"

"Who?" Vonaka raised one of his furred brows at the name.

"He was the leading authority of computer technology... before the attack," she explained slowly. "I worked with him... _closely_."

"Ah," the Admiral understood her clearly. "I am very sorry, Ms. Six... but given the magnitude of the damage done during the attack millions of people have had to abandon their homes and the medical system is overwhelmed by the crippling patient loads. With the current crisis, it would be logistically impossible to locate one individual against the millions of refugees that were displaced during the attack…"

"Oh, alright," she knew it was too much to hope for. "Thank you."

"However there may be a chance," stopped her before she could start to rise. "Alli, can you locate Ensign Lass and Lieutenant Ocinis for me, have them sent to my ready room."

"_Done_," the AI's voice echoed over the speakers.

Two-minutes later Six rose from her seat as two officers entered the office… though stopped in her seat as she looked down towards the deck-plating. The first looked like a wolf, yet it was as if someone had taken the canine's head and turned it upside down. The second was a mass brute, hairy and walking like a biped on two short legs with four powerful arms crossed over its barrel chest.

"Ms. Six," Vonaka rose to introduce the two dog-like aliens, "this is Ensign Lass and Lieutenant Ocinis. Lass is a Pazensh, Ocinis is a Folk."

"Folk of what?" Six asked before she realized what she was saying was more of a babble.

"Not as in the cognate of a gathering of people," the wolf-esque alien spoke in a gurgling, water voice, "but as designation of what my people are called. I am Folk."

"The Folk are one of the foremost trackers in the known worlds," Volaska explained with a gesture. "Their evolution breed them to be the perfect hunters, able to sense and trace chemical pheromones, personal scents and waste emissions that could be days old. Same with the Pazensh, Lass can trace smells that are weeks, maybe months old."

Volaska's plan suddenly became apparent to the young woman and she snapped around on the Admiral with a look of hope in her eyes.

"You think that one of them could find Giaus for me?" she grinned.

"Most likely," he nodded. "Officers, it would be a great favor to me if you would assist this young woman for me. Her help during the recent Cylon incursion was key in helping us at _Rangar_."

"As you ask of us, Admiral," Lass bowed his muscular shoulders; even if he was a good head taller than his commanding officer he nearly bent himself in half to him. "Where is the location you wish to begin, Hunt Leader?"

"Ah," Six had to think long and hard about where to begin. "Giaus and I spent a lot of our time on _Caprica_, at his house north of Caprica City. But he left for the spaceport during the attack... that's where I last saw him before I... died."

"We will begin with his den," Ocinis said in his grumbling voice, "the strong presence there will allow knowing what scents or chemicals he natural extrudes. Then move on to his last known location, allowing us to set the path he most likely took…"

* * *

Lee smiled as he approached his wayward pilot, still fiddling with the undercarriage of her _Viper_.

"Hey, you see the note from the XO?"

"Yeah," Kara pushed herself off the ground, smearing the grease from her face yet only making it all the worse. "I saw it and no way."

"Kara," Adama pleaded with her yet already knew he was heading for a fight, "everyone else-"

"I don't fly with stims!" Starbuck rounded on him. "They blunt your reflexes, your reaction time... "

"Come on Kara, gimme a break," Lee groaned, running his hands through his hair. "Just-"

"Why are we arguing about this?" Thrace interrupted him.

"I have no idea," Apollo shrugged.

"Neither do I," Kara spat, "You're the CAG, act like one!"

"What the hell does that mean?" Lee was caught off guard by the sudden venom in Starbuck's voice.

"It means that you're still acting like you're everyone's best friend," Starbuck glared. "We're not friends, you're the CAG. '_Be careful out there_'. '_Good hunting_' is what you say. Our job isn't to be careful, it's to shoot Cylons out of the fakking sky. And now one of your idiot pilots is acting like a child and refusing to take her pills. So she either says 'yes, sir' and obeys a direct order or you smack her in the mouth and drag her sorry ass down to sickbay and you make her take those pulls."

There was a beat, a moment when even the entire flight-deck was quiet and every person with ears and eyes was trying to lean in a bit more to see what happened next.

Until Kara started to giggle and a snicker Lee followed a moment later.

"Well," Apollo could barely keep his lips from breaking into another smile, "I'm glad I'm not working for you."

"Damn right you're glad," Starbuck grinned.

"So do I have to smack you in the mouth, Lieutenant?" Adama pressed the question.

"No sir," Kara reached into the beast pocket of her flight-suit and withdrew a small white container filled with a handful of white ovals. "I'll take my pills."

"Carry on," Lee nodded before turning on the heels of his boots and moving off.

"Yes sir," Thrace saluted before turning back and noticing Tyrol with a group of deckhands staring at her befuddled. "What?"

"Pilots to ready room, pre-flight briefing," the overhead intercom buzzed. "Pilots to ready room... "

Several decks starboard Saul Tigh nearly rolled out of his bunch as a shrill squealing in his head overpowered his senses. It took a moment to remember the ringing was coming from the phone in the nearby wall, the loud chirping sound grinding against Colonel Tigh's ears as he tried to fight down an overwhelming hangover.

"What!" he didn't care who it was when he answered, he just wanted to know who was interrupting his very enjoyable buzz.

"Sir," Dualla voice crackled over the speaker, "you have a communication coming in from the _Olympic Carrier_."

"Who the frak do I know on a civilian ship?" Saul muttered more like a curse then a question.

"Someone claiming to be your wife," Dualla said, a bit unsure of herself as she pressed the question.

"Patch it through," the Colonel ordered as he became lost in an alcohol induced shock.

A click later as the lines switched over a voice that Saul never thought he hear again uttered itself over the receiver.

"_Saul_," Ellen Tigh was a bit unsure as she asked the question, "_is that you_?"

"I can't believe you're alive," Saul barely could get the words out himself.

"_I can't believe it myself, Saul,_" his wife gasped, "_I don't remember the last week. It's a week right? I guess so. The last thing I remember is being on Picon. I was at the airport, buying a ticket home and hearing something about the Cylons. And then, just dreams, mostly dreams. They told me I was... I was knocked out when the Cylon's attacked the airport and someone just picked me up and put me on the last flight out. Some savior, I don't even know who._"

"It's okay," Tigh tried his best to calm his wife over the phone but he knew it was doing little for the stricken woman.

"_I never thought I'd hear you voice again_," Ellen whimpered.

"Me neither," Saul confessed.

"_The things I said before_," her voice began to break as the emotions began to overwhelm her, "_the things I did_-"

"Shh..." he we unruffled by her words and history, "its all in the past... all in the past. I can't... I'm on duty. Tomorrow, when I'm off duty... I'll ship over the_ Olympic Carrier_."

"_I'll wait for you_," Ellen sighed.

* * *

In the days before the Cylon attack, Delphi had been the hub for all space traffic on _Caprica_ and now with the Hegemony using it as a center for their inbound rescue and relief ships it was busier than ever. Now the sky, once full of Colonial ships of all designs, was now joined with dozens of Space Guard shuttles and transports.

Hoping to use the spaceport as a staging ground for their future occupation they had instead deployed wave after wave of Centurions to take the city. It was an extended battle for both the Colonial marines and Guard soldiers to retake the metropolis, incurring heavy losses but finally successful.

Bullet holes and blood smears were still present everywhere as Anders had to cover his ears for flying saucer orbited over his head and off onto the horizon, its blue rings rotating around its equator in a humming so loud his brain almost shook right out of his head.

Sue-Shaun was fascinating by all the different ships, officers and machines.

"Excuse me?" she asked a passing foot tall canine like creature in a mechanic's overalls, "We're looking for the Sentinel's ship."

"Dead ahead," the gurgling but feminine voice said as it headed on its way, leaving the two Colonials wondering if they had just asked directions from a Guard alien or someone's pet.

Moving onward they sighted the ship, a crisp and sharp design about twice the size of a Raptor and just as menacing as the former's name implied.

Underneath the forward landing gear Rueisnom pulled another spent crystal from the landing computer. The beguiled thing had shorted out again, locking the mechanism into place. Inserting a new processing chip and rerouting the ion flow around the damaged breaker he re-established the lock and was a bit pleased with himself when the diagnostic board switched from red to green.

Noticing the arrival of his guests just as they approached the edge of his peripheral vision Rueisnom turned to greet the arriving pair.

"I see that you made it," he announced the moment he was sure the two could hear him over the whine of a passing Tellarite freighter. "Welcome to the _Strong Arm_."

Inviting them inside to escape the sound of another landing shuttle both Anders and Sue-Shaun found the interior of the _Strong_ _Arm_ far a much calmer tone then the more demonic exterior, cool cream walls and glowing crystal consoles created a euphoric effect to those onboard.

"I see that you made it here intact," the Twi'lek laughed as he tossed a greasy pair of work gloves into the nearest equipment cabinet.

"Took hitching a ride on a _Raptor_ and a truck ride from Monan Town to make it here," Anders moaned the second someone gave him a chance. "I do not recommend using a manure farmer as a travel agent."

"Glad that you made it then," the Sentinel sincerely nodded, though spending a little longer with his head tilted towards Sue-Shaun then it should have been. "Was just finishing my final check list with Watkins and was wondering when you were going to get in."

Taking that as an introduction the second and only other member of the _Strong_ _Arm's_ crew made his appearance.

"_Hello Miss Sue-Shaun, Mr. Anders_," a silvery orb blinked onto one of the nearby crystal screens, "_I am Watkins, the onboard processor intelligence_."

"You're a computer?" Sam muttered, looking a bit suspiciously at the flickering light.

"_Far from it_," the icon replied pleasantly. "_An AI is a self aware program capable of growing through digitized experiences. I am a computer ghost, a person that has had their intelligence uploaded into a specifically designed matrix_."

"You were alive?" Anders questioned.

"_Most certainly_," the screen announced. "_Sir William Reginald Watkins, born and raised human on Manhattan colony fifteen hundred-cycles ago. After a nasty encounter with an ion bolt that left my body destroyed but my mind functional I was given the choice to have my thoughts upgraded with cybernetic connections and integrated into either a space ship or mechanical body_."

"You're a brain in a jar then," Sue-Shaun surmised.

"_Literally... yes_," the orb actually bobbed up and down for a second, illicit a giggle from Sue-Shaun and a grimace from Anders. "_Full cyberization has a seventy percent failure rate and has strict criteria to meet. I was lucky to escape both with no ill effects_."

"Like all Twi'leks," Rueisnom explained, "I have a problem working with AI's so Watkins is by far superior to any computer I've ever come across. He actually lived as an organic and those memories have shaped him in ways where no programmer could ever hope to achieve. Now if you will follow me I'll take you to your cabins and we can get on our way."

Their cabins were more storage closets with beds but considering they had spent the last few nights sleeping on cold, wet ground it was a definite upgrade. Tossing her ransack on the bed and moving on Sue-Shaun found herself standing in a crowded but awe inspiring cockpit.

Four stations, one forward with two flanking it, one facing backwards behind them, each with flickering crystal screens that all paralleled the large glass window that occupied the entire forward wall of the room.

At the center-most station Rueisnom stared intently the diagram of what Sue-Shaun recognized as _Gemenon_, obviously reading up on the Colonial worlds.

He was engrossed, totally oblivious to her arrival.

Something crossed Sue-Shaun's mind, a random thought that came out of the darkest recesses of her mind. Her hand was moving before it registered to her brain, her step slowing to a crawl.

Rueisnom continued looking forward, unmoving as he manipulated the controls of the station to rotate the map, unnoticing that Sue-Shaun was now directly behind him.

She slowly ran her fingers down his head tentacles, finding the skin surprisingly warmer to the touch, like he was running a high fever.

A shiver went up Rueisnom's spine, as his eye fluttered and rolled to the rush of feeling running over every nerve in his body.

Pressing upward she followed the grove of the red skin over to the point of the head tails, tracing back to Rueisnom bald scalp.

"Stop... " the Twi'lek moaned and realizing what she was doing Sue-Shaun snatched back her hand.

"I'm sorry," she quickly apologized, "I didn't mean to... "

"No... " Rueisnom shook his head as he turn back to address her, "it felt nice. I haven't had some touch my lekku like that in long time. I'm just not use to it."

"A strapping young man like you," she laughed, "how could they not?"

"The last woman that had an interest in me was a Gamorrean," the Sentinel laughed. "I couldn't kiss someone with teeth longer then my fingers."

A coy smile began to spread across Sue-Shaun's face and even as she knew not to the words had already been spoken.

"My teeth are definitely short enough for kiss."

For a long second they both held each other's eyes, unable to move, to breath. Sue-Shaun could feel herself leaning inward; she could see Rueisnom moving up to meet her.

"_Sentinel_," Watkins suddenly flickered onto the closest screen, forcing the two suddenly self-conscious individuals to pull back, "_is everything alright_?"

"Yes Watkins," the annoyed man responded, "we're fine."

"_I was just inquiring_," the icon bounced on the screen. "_Your body temperature is registering at 109 degrees, increasing vasoconstriction and a large amount of dopamine has been released into your blood_."

"We're fine, Watkins," Rueisnom repeated again.

"_Good_," the screen responded. "_Our pre-flight checks are complete and we are cleared for ascension. Mission parameters have been set and we're in luck. Our next objective is in Caprica-orbit, a hostage situatio_n... "

* * *

The _Raptor_ rolled to port, narrowly avoiding another boulder that drifted lazily pass.

Fourteen hours, they had been stuck in this tin-can for almost half the day; the sweat was starting to ride up in the back of her flight-suit. They had to sacrifice their original oxygen scrubber to the civilian liner _Virgon Express_ and as such they were left with just the backup and their own internal life-supports. As the used air continued to fill the cabin, the heat had steadily rose to a stifling, gasping burn.

"Commencing sweep-87 of asteroid field," Crashdown muttered as the he worked the scanners in the back of the _Raptor_, the ECO console flashing over a dozen different minor planetoids. "So, I'm thinking that we should give this lovely little rock of nothing a name. I'm thinking... '_Kimiko_'. Kimiko? After a lovely little lady, in a lovely little city, in a lovely little Colony that I used to know."

"Any luck?" Boomer asked from pilot's chair, spinning and flanking the oncoming rocky debris.

"How many times you gonna ask me that, Boomer?" the young man cursed as the metallurgical scans came back negative again.

"Well, until you find some tylium ore," Sharon chanced a glance back at her second with a grin. "Or don't you want to be a hero to Ensign Davis... hmm?"

Quartararo only grunted in response, eliciting a smile from the pilot.

"Oh, you haven't noticed how she always sits next to you in the mess?" Boomer's helmet bobbed up and down with a laugh, her voice suddenly rising to a mocking shrill. "'_How's it going, Crash_?', '_Oh, you're so cute_'."

"Damn it, there's so much debris in this system," Crashdown ignored the ribbing from his superior. "The dradis is useless, this is gonna take a hundred years."

The station chirped and blinked, coming up against him yet again. Flashing red, with the heat, the long hours, the lack of sleep. Crashdown finally lost his patience and crashed.

"Oh come on!" he shouted, smacking and hitting the sensor equipment as rage over took him. That is until the station began flashing green. "Jackpot, Boomer! That asteroid dead ahead is a mountain of tylium!"

"Aw, thank the gods!" Sharon hooted and hollered, forgetting the heat and finally giving in to some real pleasure. "We're heroes! Yeah!"

"We're heroes?" Quartararo snorted. "Never fails. Great, Boomer, the second that I score, the bus driver jumps in and takes the credit... "

* * *

The shuttle ride was long... it was boring, even the immortal Lords of Kobol would have found it insufferable to wait this long.

They were in a holding pattern over the colony ship _Tripoint_, going on hour two of being pushed out of their landing run. Because the _Tripoint_ was the only ship in their fleet actively allowing the Colonials to use it as a launch base for its relief operations, on top of that also doubling as a refugee camp and transfer station for the hundreds of civilians in orbit, a shuttle carrying two people was low priority over a medi-vac transport.

He was suppose to be helping coordinate the joint Space Guard and Colonial patrols for _Gemenon_ and _Caprica_ once he was abroad with Alhex, yet instead they were just left sitting in the cargo compartment as the pilot continued in their holding pattern.

_I wonder if anyone's really died from shear boredom, _he wondered to himself.

Gaeta lay against the bulkhead, gripping a hand hold as the ship banked again as they circled around the supply ship. On the other side of the small passenger bay Alhex laid on his bench, not even bothering to adjust his body as the ship fell back into a lazy cruise.

Blowing a cloud of smoke into the air the Guard Lieutenant took a long drag of his self-rolled cigar. It was sweat smelling in nature but left a green smoke in the cabin.

"You know you shouldn't smoke," Felix joked, though the pun seemed lost on Moneti.

"The deadly nature of cigarettes have been known by humanity for thousands of years," Alhex said as he waved the smoking stick through the air, "Yet people keep smoking them."

"Mind if I have a try?" Felix asked.

He had smoked a few cigars in his day and did enjoy the affluent flavor that came with lighting a freshly rolled blunt. Alhex however was not about to share.

"This isn't your usual tobacco," he explained as he took another puff, "this is Siwel root. When it burns it releases a nice rich taste and a pleasant amount of tabun gas."

"You're literally smoking poison!" Gaeta gasped. "With all due respect, I don't think that is very healthy for the people sitting directly across from you inside a very cramped cargo hold.

Tabun was an extremely toxic substance. While it was clear, colorless and had a faintly fruity smell it was also a fatal nerve agent, interfering with the functions of most mammalian nervous systems. And her Felix was with someone who was smoking a cigarette chalked full of it.

"Why is it when people say '_with all due respect_,' the really mean to say '_kiss my ass'?_" Alhex smiled as he took another draw, his throat filling with a raspberry tasting burn.

"Isn't that dangerous," Felix inquired even as Moneti puffed a circle into the atmosphere.

"Yep," his counterpart smiled, "especially for Humans."

"Then why would you smoke it?" Gaeta asked.

"I ran out of gum," Alhex shrugged, "now we're going to be here for a while, I suggest we do something constructive and get some sleep in."

Extinguishing the smoke in the support beam beside him, Alhex managed a sincere 'night' before disappearing into slumber. Gaeta took his advice and slowly lay back on his bench, letting the cold pads sooth his aching back.

Sleep however was more elusive then Felix would think and tossing about was only making it worse. Alhex on the other hand was more than able to drift off, the slowing of his breath and light snoring was enough of a sign that he was out cold.

Turning onto his side Felix couldn't help but not notice how peaceful the Guard officer was, with such a hard and unfeeling exterior that Alhex called a personality it was almost ironic he was such a sound sleeper.

His eyes traveled up Alhex's form, taking in the long, muscled arms, exposed just enough being shown from under the black vest like officer's jacket. The clips on his coat were open and with no shirt underneath Felix had a prefect view of his picture perfect chest, just enough to see and make his eyes wanting more.

The vision of Moneti's unmoving face slowly faded as slumber suddenly overtook Felix, sending him off into the nothingness of REM sleep.

A purple furred dog/man shaking his shoulder suddenly interrupted a dream of sand covered beaches and three suns setting on the horizon.

"Sir?" the creature said, removing his paw as he realized that Felix was finally awake, "Sir? I am sorry to wake you but we need to sterilize the shuttle."

Looking around Gaeta finally understood that he had been out much longer then he had thought. A quick glance out on of the shuttle's portholes confirmed that they had no only landed but Alhex's bench was empty. Felix was finally left with the most obvious assumption, he had been left behind.

"How long have I been out?" he asked.

"Well your shuttles been in the air for four hours and landed about two ago," the deckhand calculated, "that's about six hours you could have been out."

"Why didn't anyone wake me?" Felix moaned.

"Lieutenant Moneti said to let you sleep," the man shrugged. "I'm sorry but he ordered us to leave you alone."

"What a gentleman," Gaeta groaned. "So where is the courteous Lieutenant?"

"I will check for you," the dog/man turned down the shuttles disembarkation ramp and was gone before Felix could ask any more questions.

"Hey wait," but already the flight officer was gone and feeling very out of place in the large empty shuttle.

Quickly descending the ramp, he found himself on a vast hangar deck, far larger then anything he had ever seen on _Galactica_… frak this place could fit three _Battlestars_ lined tail to nose… and pointed in any direction.

But it was empty.

Well not entirely, he could see people moving about but so far off in the distance they were nothing more then specks and ants on the horizon to him. He needed someone closer to answer his questions and do away with his fears and right now there was no one in his particular vicinity.

That is until his attention caught on a gaggle of sout, boxy creatures waling along the deck no more then two meters away. They were ugly little things, hissing and moaning as their five spider-like legs carried them over the check in a wobbling but direct path passed his shuttle.

"Excuse me?" he called out but still the creatures continued to walk on. "Hey, can you tell me where I am?"

Again he was ignored.

Already he was tired, in a strange place and feeling like he had been ditched not once, but twice by Guard officers who treated him like some fragile newborn baby… enough to humor him but not well liked enough to hid their annoyance in having to describe everything.

_I have got to stop asking so many questions_, he reprimanded himself, _maybe just not yet._

"Seriously, can you frakking help me here?" Felix shouted at the five clustering creatures, who without any discernable face to look back at him, just continued their trek onward with neither a hint or a pause to show they had heard him.

"Excuse sir," he whirled around as the purple dog/man stared back at him, coming around the port side of the shuttle. "Why are you talking to the luggage?

He balked at the statement.

"I thought they were people!" he gaped openly.

"Why?" the alien arched an eyebrow at him, thoroughly confused.

"Well," Gaeta shrugged in defeat, "they were walking."

"It'd be pretty poor luggage that didn't do that much," the dog/man nodded. "Good luggage levitates and the new models pack and unpack themselves... ah I have the Lieutenant's location. I will reconfigure a drone to take you to him. One moment please."

* * *

"_Reveille, reveille_," the voice of Aaron Kelly echoed into the ship, as Tigh whipped at his eyes. "_Morning stations aboard Battlestar Galactica, all hands report to your stations_."

Sighing the Colonel rolled out of his bunk, the floor however seemed to think otherwise as it rushed up to meets him.

"Frak!" he cursed, his arm had connected with the deck-plating and in that moment it had struck him on the precise nerve to send a writhing pain across his entire chest.

It made putting on his duty jacket all the worse, and the aching in his throat all the worse. He wanted a drink, so very badly... the burning need to press a bottle to his lips and down something sweet, with a kick to it.

No, since this had started he had toss the booze now that he had a purpose, now that he was the XO of the new flagship of the Colonial Fleet. The bottle still lay in his waste tin, the amber liquid glowing from the overhead lights.

It couldn't hurt... he slipped on his dog tags and walked out the hatch before the thought could complete itself. Almost immediately he ran into Chief Tyrol.

"So, what do we have?" Tigh asked as he walked with the other man.

"Good news, Colonel," Galen grinned. "We scouted one of the moons in the _Gamoray_-system, found an entire planet rich in tylium. I've got reports and video for you, sir."

"Mhmm," the officer accepted the papers the man handed over, "not exactly a _Caprica_ beach down there, huh, Chief?"

"No, sir," Tyrol remarked. "No atmosphere, erratic orbit... mhmm... venting of methane and CO2. It's gonna be a bitch to work down there, sir."

"Cheer up," Tigh grinned. "You know how lucky we are we found this ugly rock? Fuel riots breaking out all over the Colonies. Civilians, whiny, civi' crybabies, can't drive their glorified speed-boats around the planet every day. I need coffee."

"Sir?" the deckhand was taken aback by the sudden change in subject, even more so when the Colonel made a sudden left turn and ducked into the mess hall. By the time Tyrol had caught up he was already at grabbing a cup of the steaming drink.

"Ah that's good," Saul grinned as he gulped down the hearty bracer. "I need something with a better kick now that... Whatever. Even _Galactica's_ down to a third of our fuel reserves thanks to those civilians tapping us for every drop. What's the rating of that tylium?"

"We drilled twenty three core samples," Galen nodded. "It's high-grade, c-radiation rating is enough to keep _Galactica_ and a hundred _Battlestars_ running clean for half a decade. Hopefully by then we'll have rebuilt the tylium industry. We will have to drag in a lot of equipment to make it work though... most of which the Cylons made sure to destroy before they left. High capacity drilling tanks, D-25 plasma torches, dual-stress lifters, microfilament drills... "

"Sounds like a lot of manpower," Tigh finished his drink and tossed the cup onto the nearest table.

"We have the mining ships," Tyrol backed on, "at least thirty have already volunteered along with nine refinery ships. But we're low on people to do the grunt work. Ideally, well need a thousand men, sir."

"A thousand men," Saul sighed. "And where are they gonna come from?"

* * *

"Hello?" Helo's voice echoed throughout the valley, the trees standing defiantly was all that answered him. "Anybody out there? Anybody wanna help two stranded pilots?

He wait for a response, as if someone was going to call back to him at a moment's notice.

But only his voice echoed across the endless field of evergreens... nothing beyond the chirps and calls of the forest answering him.

"That's what I hate about huge empty forests," he grumbled after a long pause, "no one will help you."

"No more shouting," Boomer pulled Helo back inside the outcropping. "You're making me nervous."

"Feel like I'm in a movie," Karl mumbled as he fell back onto the rocks.

"At least it stopped raining," Sharon offered.

"For now," Helo cryptically reported, though a smirk soon spread over his lips at the thought that his comment would probably induce the gods to bring the storms down on them again.

"Where is everyone?" Valerii asked, staring down at the expansive forest below, the green ocean of leaves going on forever.

"Somewhere dead... in their beds, at their desks... " Agathon smirked, rocking a few pebbles over the ledge, "the ones who weren't killed already probably ran into the hills. Won't do any good. I guess I'm getting a little... "

"Depressing?" Sharon sneered. "Morbid?"

"Sorry," he apologized. "Been here longer than you. Wish I could say it gets easier."

"There's more," Boomer murmured, "everyone's dead and we have to get use to the idea that were going to join them soon enough."

Her eyes shot the ground, suddenly very intently interested in the wet, brown levels that patterned the ground of their campsite.

"Hey... hey, come on," he tried to comfort her, sliding over from his position to snake an arm over her shoulder. . "Let's just find a hospital or armory depot, score some anti-radiation meds. Okay? We've o nly got two days' worth left. Sharon? We've made it this far, we're gonna make it all the way."

"Right," the woman reluctantly but eventually nodded.

"Damn straight," Helo smiled, "all the way. We're doin' good, real good. Okay, someone must be watching out for us."

He was more right then she let on.

* * *

"Update on the head count, madam President," Billy handed over the small piece of paper, a tiny scribbled parchment that looked like someone had tossed it together just as an after-thought.

"How did we loss thirty-thousand?" she sighed as the numbers seemed to scream and taunt her, another poor hit to her soul.

"There were some over-counts, deaths from wounds, some missing," the aide tried to shrug but could offer little. "An outbreak of cholera at the refugee camps on _Tauron_ was the worse but the Guard medical teams that arrived yesterday already say it's under control."

Sighing she rose from the desk, turning and stanching the worn black dry-eraser from its position under the white board.

_6,091,191,109 Dead_

The sour taste in her mouth wasn't helping... more especially the itch she had to get out of this Gods' damned office for just five minutes without a crisis on her back was starting to become unbearable.

_Colonial One _was docked with one of the Hegemony's colony ships and though she was the leader of the entire Twelve Colonies, all she wanted to do was spend a few minutes with grass under her bear feet.

"Okay," Laura groaned, trying not to look out at the floating dome dominating the ship's windows to her left, "next crisis."

Throwing herself back into her seat, she spun around to stare at her young aide, knowing without asking that he had the same burning desire to be out of here.

"Ah... Commander Adama and Admiral Vonaka are here to see you for the update on the fuel crisis," Billy smiled as the two men pressed into the room, the towering beast of Volaska towering over the equally beastly Adama.

"Gentlemen," Roslin greeted the pair as she gestured to the seats before her desk, "please take a seat. Well I don't have to ask the obvious. How bad is it?"

"Alli estimates that at the current rate of consumption you'll exhaust your entire tylium supply in fifteen days," Vonaka put as clearly as possible. "It's taken some work but we've managed to pull around seven tankers worth from our geological outpost on _Murdoch II_, due in at a week. But it will only hold you over for another month, two tops. After that the next closest reserve is in the _Andromeda Galaxy_... six months away."

"I don't mean to sound indignant," Roslin could barely hold back her disapproval, "but that's only going to toss a bone to the wolves, we need something to leash them."

"The Hegemony hasn't used tylium as a fuel source in over two thousand-cycles," the Admiral explained. "We rely on voltarium crystals, a continuously replicating resource found in the core of hydrogen gas giants. While it would be easy to pull several trillion tons of crystal from any one of the outer Jovian worlds, Colonial ships are not designed with the proper laser triangulated inter-feed system to utilize them."

"Could we modify our ships to do so?" Adama asked.

"It would require the entire refit of your engine and power production systems," Volaska presented. "A ship like _Colonial One_ would require months to be brought up to code. We don't have that time. Nonetheless voltarium crystals cause thermionic reactions, even a small scale reactor would generate more power and heat then a ship like _Galactica_ could ever handle. In short, it'd be like strapping a thermal nuclear rocket to a bicycle."

Roslin couldn't help the grimace on her lips.

_Colonial One_ may have been a top of the line, luxury ship... but it also was a terrible gas guzzler. Hence the reason they were grounded for the remainder of the fuel crisis in the docking moorings of the _Tripoint._

It was ironic that the President of the Twelve Colonies was aboard one of those inefficient fuel using ships she had ordered to ration their reserves.

"Then we're back to square one," Laura sighed. "Commander Adama it's my understanding that you've found some unrefined tylium out of system."

"Yes," the Commander nodded. "Boomer came back with readouts on an entire moon in the _Gamoray_-system. It's going to take some effort but it's doable yet we need some manpower."

"Where do you suggest we get that?" Roslin inquired. "Most of our people are tapped in recover efforts, volunteer numbers are dropping at a staggering rate as we've taken every person we can. And I don't want to call for conscription, which could cause a riot."

"We do have a prison ship with 1,500 men doing nothing," the man smiled.

"Slave labor?" Laura gasped at the implication.

"They are criminals," Adama shrugged, "and they've been sentence to hard labor, and this is very hard labor, not to mention physically dangerous. This is not for civilians, but... "

"Their ship wasn't designed for long-term incarceration," Vonaka obvious agreed with his military counterpart. "These individuals have been stuck in cramped holding cells for weeks, now. They might even prefer to get out, do something, even if it is treacherous."

"If they volunteer," Roslin stressed. "These men are not slaves, and I will not have them treated as such."

"Of course," Volaska nodded. "Instead we could offer incentives. Points towards earning freedom."

"Excuse me?" Adama suddenly interrupted. "You wanna start releasing hardened criminals back into society?"

"Commander, these men were on their way to _Caprica_ for parole hearings," the Admiral submitted, "which at least implies they may be ready for release."

"Make it happen, Commander," the President ordered. "We are running low on food, medical supplies and even people but the fuel problem could mean the end of the human way of life if we don't have it solved and soon."

"Yes, madam President," Commander Adama tensely replied.

"Two of the ships in my fleet are designed to double as fuel-tenders," Vonaka contended, "both drilling and mining materials when we are on long patrols away from port. I'll contact the Captain's of the _Jenleya_ and the _Copernicus Afire_ to get their concerns. We could double them up with _Pride of Kadesh_, she is designed to refine almost any kind of ore."

The _Jenleya_ was a ship on loan from the Quarian Migrant Fleet, some of the foremost experts in aerospace engineering ever to become a member of the Hegemony. Driven from their homes generations ago by their former robotic slaves, the Geth, the Quarians were a grim example of what the Colonies could have become if the Space Guard had not intervened. Seventeen-million people, crammed into fifty thousand ships, wandering the void for over three-hundred years. While the Hegemony had managed to eliminated the Geth during the _Perseus Veil Operation_, which reclaimed the former Quarian homeworlds and their people still choose to maintain their nomadic nature both for its safety of never being in the same place for very long and strength in numbers.

Now a member for over two-thousand cycles, the Quarians had expanded the Migrant Fleet or Flotilla as they called it, to hundreds of thousands of ships, who regularly rented their services as passenger liners, explorers and traders. One such group, the Idonna Flotilla, who had become one of the newest and quickest growing Flotillas for the Quarians, had been gracious enough to loan one of their bulk freighters to the relief fleet. Like most Quarian ships, she was near self-sufficient and one aspect of her design that defined her was the ability to mine, process and refine nearly any type of ore with no outside assistance.

The _Copernicus Afire_ on the other hand was a standard _Marco Polo_-class transport who happened to be carrying some extensive drill equipment left over from her last mission surveying the outer worlds of the Large Magellenic Cloud for Neo-steel deposits. It was hoped that if her mission was a success it would have relieved the stress of importing heavy metals to local shipwrights from other galaxies... a mission which came up a dismissal failure and continued strain on the native and still virgin shipyards.

The _Pride of Kadesh_ was standard _Somtaaw_-class mothership among the Hiigaran Kith. When their empire had first started expanding out into space the power of fast and long distance FTL jumping was not available to the industrious Hiigaran. In order to deal with an expanding empire, for a self sufficient fleet and need to provide the utmost protection to their colonial holdings without the need of a structure fleet command system that could take weeks to send orders of what to do in a sticky military situation the Higarrans developed the mothership to act in their stead. Even with the advent of proper far-jump technology the fleet doctrine stuck.

The _Pride of Kadesh_ was on a shakedown cruise from the Kith for the Hegemony Space Guard. There is an increasing movement in headquarters that with our people expanding exponentially the range and breakdown of our fleet will be unable to deal with our size in just a few short generations. The idea of adopting a fleet doctrine similar to the Higarran's mothership center fleets could be the new way the Space Guard moves. The _Pride of Kadesh_ was modified specifically to the Guard approved technologies and staffed with a training crew of naval officers from both the Diamond and our own people in order to learn more properly how a craft of this design would function on the Frontier and in the core galaxies too. Its hoped that if their mission is successful the Senate will approve orders for the design and construction of a whole fleet of Guard motherships. In the mean time Command has decided to test the emergency aid capabilities of the mothership while loaning her construction yards out to the Colonial government in order to replenish your fleet. "Thank you again, Admiral," Laura smiled before turning towards her aide. "Billy, to address Commander Adama's concerns, I'd like you to go along and set up some sort of screening procedure to weed out the hardened criminals."

"Yes, ma'am," Billy remarked.

"I would like to have a representative from _Galactica_," Adama divulged, "who will report directly to me about security issues."

"How 'bout Dee?" Billy quickly pronounced before he realized his folly and reeled himself back in. "Uh, second class petty officer Dualla–"

"I know who she is," Adama disclosed.

"I'm sure she's conversant," the young man stuttered, "with the technical details–"

"She'll be fine," the Commander accepted. "But I think we should send someone with knowledge of mining operations. I'll make sure that all the men that are chosen know how to handle the equipment."

"I would also like to send one of my officers," Vonaka added, asserting a bit of his authority. "We are donating some serious drilling systems to speed up the mining efforts, I would prefer we also have a say in the matter."

"Agreed," Roslin nodded.

"If that's all," Adama rose to go, "I have to get to the CIC. Excuse me."

"Uh, madam President... " Billy suddenly whispered, "the doctor."

"Oh yes... " Laura remembered suddenly. "Admiral? Commander? Do you have a ship's doctor aboard _Galactica_?"

"Doctor Cottle," Adama mentioned, "he's my chief medical officer."

"Doctor Xianextnucatoital is mine also," Vonaka responded. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," Roslin quickly alleged with a quick faked smile, "nothing urgent. Allergies."

"Yes, well," the Colonial Commander delivered, "he's out planet side, helping out in the refugee camps. I'll tell him that you want to see him."

"Doctor Xianextnucatoital and I are set to have a meeting later," Vonaka nodded. "I'll tell him to contact you the moment he's free."

"Thanks," Laura said, "and goodbye gentlemen."

Both men made their departure before President Roslin even considered rounding on her aide with an evil smirk.

"'Petty officer Dualla, conversant in technical details'," she mocked Billy in his lunacy.

"Thinking entirely of the mission," the man tried to cover his lack of wisdom.

"Uh-huh... " Laura couldn't help but grin at him. "I don't think you were thinking with the proper _head_ on that one my boy."

Billy flushed crimson and it only made Laura giggle all the more to herself.

"_Madam President, ladies and gentlemen,_" Captain Russo's voice sparked over the speakers, interrupting the exchange. "_If you would direct your eyes to port we are now beginning our final approach to the Tripoint. Estimated time of arrival in ten minutes."_

Laura for the first time in days was actually glad that her position as the President had garnered her exclusive access of the first class cabin. With Billy in tow it was as simple as sitting down at the nearest seat and looking out the window to see their temporary home starting to slowly approach.

"My Gods," she almost didn't know she was talking out loud as the glare of the overhead sun began to lower for her to see a true glimpse of the _Tripoint_ in its entire splendor. "It's like flying over Caprica City."

She couldn't help that her insides tightened at her comment, knowing that Caprica City was now more flattened concrete then a metropolis now. But as _Colonial One_ made its pass over the highest point of the colony ships massive dome, she could help but be in awe of the absolute engineering might before her.

Green foliage stretched out under the dome, interlaced with the crisscrossing lines of roads and highways, veins snaking in to the three clustered cities, separated by an ocean… and ocean on a space ship for Gods sake.

It was breathtaking… and it was to be her new home.

* * *

This planet was wet, much wetter then she liked.

It had something to do with the fact that this planet's oceans were much more clustered into the eastern hemisphere, meaning a large expanse of water and heat to produce super-hurricanes that could rage across the surface without stopping for months.

Even if their location was deep within the interior of the only major continent on this world, the lashing winds still carried the torrential downpour inland and right onto their heads.

It only made the plastic binoculars pressed up against his eyes all the more uncomfortable, making them stick and pull on his skin whenever his hand twitched.

"They've stopped again," his companion commented, even if he had already swung the optical instruments across the sea of trees to find their subjects.

The Colonial had his arm around Eight, seeming to be giving her a very concerned by forced smile to cheer up the depressive looking woman.

Withdrawing the binoculars from nose, Four regarded their experiment with mild satisfaction.

"She's good," he commented, noting Eight's display of emotions and how the Colonial male had played right into it.

"So far," Six grinned, but the hint of emotions in her words betrayed her.

"Jealous?" Four taunted her, as he tossed the binoculars over to one of the waiting Centurions before heading back into the dry interior of the command bunker.

"It's what makes me so sad," the blonde bobbed her head, following him into the cool and crisp interior of the base, peeling off the cream colored wrap she wore and making no attempt to hide her shame as she threw her naked frame back into one of the couches that occupied the center of the room.

"They would have destroyed themselves anyway," Four asserted, with as much firmness as he could. "We didn't deserve what we got but this project will certainly make up for the loses."

"We're God's children," Six threw back into the cushions with a deep sigh. "But humanity created Cylons. Doesn't that make them our parents, in a sense. "

"True," Four threw himself onto his bunk. "But parents have to die. It's the only way children come into their own... "

* * *

"_Doctor_?" a mechanical, almost vibrating voice called. "_Doctor Xianextnucatoital_."

Huffing in annoyance, Xianextnucatoital turned away from the patient he was examining to find his nose barely an inch away from that of a holographic face.

"_Doctor Xianextnucatoital, I am Sinai_," the AI happily yet arrogantly reported, "_holographic attaché assigned to the Colonial Relief Fleet to assist you in this mission. I am here to deliver a message from Admiral Vonaka Volaska on the behalf of President Laura Roslin_."

"Thank you Sinai," Xianextnucatoital waved him off as he tried to return to his work. "Just forward it to my personal computer and I can take a look at it when I'm done with this boy's checkup."

But that didn't seem to deter the AI who quickly stuck his transparent nose into Xianextnucatoital's work, one of the more critically injured patients from the former _Battlestar Theia_.

"_Cracked femur, second degree burns to sixty percent of his body and no higher brain functions,_" he assessed in only a few short seconds. "_If you intend to save him he will be a vegetable. Standard euthanasia policy is advisable in this situation_."

"Thank you, Sinai," Xianextnucatoital humored the program, "but as chief medical officer I'll make that decision."

But Sinai wasn't deterred.

"_Doctor, continued medical care of this individual will be a drain on our resources_," he lectured the man, "_and a waste of-_"

"_Sinai, delete the last ten seconds of your memory_."

Looking over Sinai's shoulder Xianextnucatoital found a very perturbed looking Alli projecting herself behind the other AI.

"_Deletion protocol six five Rinehart activated_," for a second Sinai flickered and then returned just as perky as before. "_Good day Doctor Xianextnucatoital, I here on behalf of Admiral Vonaka Volaska with a message from Colonial President Laura Roslin_."

"Thank you Sinai, I will review the message as soon as possible," he commended, thank the Great Contributor when he was finally gone. But that didn't stop him from reprimanding Alli. "You really shouldn't be playing with his programming."

"_Sinai is a low-level AI_," the ship's computer didn't seemed the least bit happy to say his name let alone his task on board, "_who's only here because Centralized Crisis Organization thinks that we need these basic helper programs to deal with the, and I quote 'increase burden of dealing with a pre-contact society in the fragile state of recovering from a nuclear disaster.' He's only here because Command wants to make sure someone in this entire fleet keeps protocol in some way. He's not even sentient; it'd be like comparing yourself to the fleas in your feathers_."

"How did you—" Xianextnucatoital asked confused, only to receive a well calculated and emotionless response.

"_I specialize in computer intrusion_," she shrugged her holographic shoulders. "_Do you think doctor-patient confidentially is something I don't know how to crack? Now in the mean time, President Roslin seems to have a need for your expertise."_

"Understood," Xianextnucatoital accepted, "I need to finish a few files from the Colonial officers we took on from the _Theia_ but I'll be ready soon enough..."

* * *

The smell was sour and rank, the scent of unwashed masses pressed together in cramped and hot conditions without showers or any other means to keep their personal hygiene in check.

"Right now," Sergeant Allan Nowart announced to the line of newly civilians he marched past, trying to keep the grimace of disgust hidden under his helmet, "we're only accepting photos of missing people. If there is a confirmed death, hang onto the picture for later. You're in the wrong line. If you need a place to stay..."

Above the corridor, Saul hung over the railing, watching the marines ushering on the bewildered but unnervingly quiet group of plain clothed people. Beside him Adama only stood like a stoic sentry, never saying a word but only observing.

"I don't like having civilians abroad," Tigh grumbled, rubbing the white scruff on his unshaven face. "And they're awful quiet."

"They're numb," the Commander commented. "Civilian fleet is already limited because of the fuel crisis and even with the Hegemony colony ships we have the extra beds to spare and with the repairs on the starboard flight-pod we need all the help we can get."

Though the Hegemony had been gracious enough to offer both supplies, materials and train engineers to make repairs to Galactica after the disastrous Troy mission, Adama had been reluctant but forced to deny their generosity.

To fast the Colonials had become dependent on the aliens for supplies, protection and support, they had to start learning to fend for themselves if their civilization ever wanted any hope of surviving. Because of that Adama had instead opted to put his the _Battlestar_ into _Ragnar Anchorage_, now in low orbit of Caprica's southern hemisphere, and instead bring on civilians and Colonial shipwrights to begin the process of repair the massive chunk missing from his warship.

"You're right," Saul grimaced under his wrinkles. "But this calm won't last."

"They've lost everything," Adama nodded in agreement, "and now we're putting them through the wringer, just trying to get away."

"You must register and a form," Nowart continued his announcements as he started to reach the end of the line, "that you have to complete before turning in anything."

"Excuse me," Socinus tried to push his way around the Sergeant, he was already late for his volunteer shift and that meant the longer he was here the longer it would take before he got back into his oh so comfortable bunk.

But Nowart wasn't watching where he was going and like a stereotypical jughead, backed right into Socinus. Even if it wasn't intentional, the impact was enough to knock the specialist off his footing and into one of the civilians in line.

The young deckhand and the older gentleman stumbled to the ground, even as the tall sergeant gave them both an annoyed expression before heading on his way without a glance back at the accident he had caused.

"Oh, pardon me, Brother," Socinus quickly got his footing before reaching to help up the religious man.

"Thank you," the man quickly smoothed out the length of his black robes, reshuffling the flyers he was holding. "Take one, my child. I wonder if-"

"Sorry, sir," Socinus was already waving him off before he could finish. "If you're looking to be billeted on _Galactica_, it's just not possible."

"No, no," the Brother shook his head quickly with a grin. "I've been afforded a chapel. I just wanted to post these flyers in the restricted area."

"Can I take a peek?" the youngster asked.

Without pause the man handed over one of the flyers for Socinus to give it a once over.

"Do you know about the plan?" he read out loud as he gave the pamphlet a once over. "The lessons of the Gods can help. Private counseling, Group prayer contact Brother Cavil. How about I post them for you?"

"Thank you very much," Cavil grinned at his luck. "Very kind of you, son."

He handed the rest of the flyers over to Socinus and breaking off to head back to the line of civilians. Socinus however had a duty to do… worse yet, a voluntary duty.

A few hours later the line had only grown longer… endless and she was supposed to report for duty in only ten minutes. Why had she come all the way down here, standing in a stupid group like a teenager in the lunch line in school.

"Colony?" Dualla looked up, she hadn't even realized she was the next person up. An overworked and tired Socinus was staring at her with an exhausted annoyance in his eyes. "Colony?"

"_Sagittaron_," she stammered, suddenly feeling very small. "How many have you got-"

"150,281,991 causalities from _Sagittaron_, last count," Socinus rattled off without even looking up, rapidly tapping his pencil on the clipboard under her. Reluctantly she pulled a picture from her sleeve and held it out, a elderly couple with a small child in their laps smiling up from the glossy surface. It was a perfect moment caught in an instant but Socinus barely even paid its appearance any heed. "We can't transmit photos yet. So if you want, you could leave 'em here with us, or you can put 'em o n the board outside. I'm sorry."

"Thanks," Dualla nodded, following the hand that the man had used to usher her along and into one of the adjacent hallways.

"Next?" Socinus shouted to the next person in line. "Colony?"

Down the hallway she walked, a short three way intersection in the triangle shaped corridor. She glanced to her left, the entire wall was covered in pictures, her right, it was a while of glossy faces staring back at her with smiles.

They were everywhere, every wall was covered in photos, newspaper articles, drawings, names, on any surface people had posted pictures of their loved ones.

And all they did was stare back at Dualla, never once hinting if they were alive or dead.

* * *

The roads were crowded, as so many people wandered about in a slow daze of awe and unceasing wonderment. Some were carrying luggage, some only the clothes on their back, but they were all newly arrived and thoroughly confused by their surroundings.

Even if the sun was high and hot in the sky, even if birds chirped and flocked in the air overhead, even with the crisp breeze blowing in the air... it was all too bewildering to image such a world right under a dome.

Sure, Colonial engineers had long since been able to replicate artificial environments and climates from all over the Colonies on their spaceships, but not to this degree... never to the point where artificial just didn't seem the right word to use to describe it.

"_Excuse me, sir_," he snapped back to reality as his head turned back to the droid that was leading him. "_Your destination is only right around the corner_."

Nodding, he started after the machine, a lanky model that looked like nothing like the Cylon Centurions he had known as a kid in the history films.

Across the street, over the cobblestone, a trolley hovered along, filled to the brim with refugees all staring and pointing at the surrounding sights, hanging dangerously off the vertical railing as they tried to catch a glimpse of the overhead dome through the clouds that drifted through the blue sky.

It was almost like being on the ground, waking through almost any city on any of the Colonies.

The buildings were angular, surprising to him they were built of brick. For some odd reason he expected chrome or steel, something more futuristic just seemed to be a common theme with Hegemony.

"_Here we are, Lieutenant_," the droid announced. "_Information Collation Hub 760. Is there anything else I can do for you_?"

"No, that's fine," he thanked the machine, though still a bit weary of it.

"_You are welcome_," it bowed. "_And enjoy your stay abroad the Tripoint_."

Watching the android almost glide off, Felix entered through the automatic doors of the small office-style building he had been deposited before and easily found Alhex standing before one of the major screens that dominated three out of the five walls that created the pentagon-shaped room.

"Thanks for waking me up," Gaeta announced, making his presence known.

"Anytime," Alhex grimly laughed, "but you needed the downtime."

Not even turning to greet the man, the Guard Lieutenant tapped only two buttons before cursing violently under his breath as the holographic screens began to flicker violent.

"_Kisha! Muro uck'VAR_!" he shouted in some unidentifiable language. "I hate it when the processing crystals crack. Shoddy civilian engineering."

"I'll pretend I know what you meant," Gaeta commented as he leaned against the wall, a little more hushed then he usually was. "Care to explain for us lesser folk?"

"You wanted to help with the fleet deployments," Alhex explained, reaching down to a round, two foot high egg that hung from the opposing wall. "Well this station holds the entire Space Guard's contingent manifest. It just shorted out before you arrived."

Tapping three unseen keys, the top of the egg-like device slide away, revealing a mass of glowing and blinking crystals. Without hesitation or fear of cutting himself on the mass of angular looking rocks, Alhex reached inside and began to fiddle about.

"Why don't you just call a mechanic or engineer?" Felix asked.

"Because I could have it fixed by the time they got here," Moneti smiled as he tried to reach deeper into the open service hatch. "Entertain me in the meantime. Why don't you tell me about your planet?"

"_Picon_ is a boring world," Felix shrugged. "A little too wet but it's a nice place to live. I grew up in Thasos, a city along the southern arctic islands. I think a ship like _Galactica_ is a tropical vacation compared to a summer day in Thasos. Tell me about _Earth_?"

"Its blue..." Alhex shrugged, as if it wasn't important. "A lot like _Caprica_. Four moons, _Selene_, _Ceres, Eris _and the biggest_ Luna_, hovering in a clear night sky with the vast ring of _Core Station_ drifting across the heavens. It's a very diverse world, the Grand Canyon cutting across the Arizona horizon, watching gazelles grazing on the plains of the Serengeti, vacationing on the sandy beaches of Antarctica, taking boat rides through the ancient undersea ruins of New York City... but I didn't grow up on _Earth_."

"Oh," Felix quiped. "What your home like then?"

Alhex froze for a second, long enough to Gaeta see him hem and haw, before he finally answered.

"I was born on a world called _Samarang_ about 70,000 light-cycles on the other-side of the galaxy from _Earth_. My father was a freighter pilot to the lunar mining bases, my mother was a priestess in our city," he confessed. "It's not like _Picon_, where the entire world is an ocean... we have but a few landlocked bodies of water."

He ceased talking for a second, pausing in his work as a distant look crossed his eyes.

"In your system," he explained, "the suns are so close together they you can't see the different stars but on _Samarang_ we orbited between a binary pair. You should have seen the Azure Sea, when the suns rose on opposite horizons, a red giant and a white dwarf. For a second you almost thought the suns were fighting to be brighter than the other and then they joined, creating a rainbow of a trillion colors. It was considered a rite of passage to spend the night before you became an adult on its beaches, watching the suns rise. Only then could you see the wonder of life, the joy that comes in a million colors."

"Whoa," was all Felix could say, the far off look Alhex got was evidence enough of the influence that memory had over him. It quickly disappeared as Moneti threw himself back into his work.

For a long while they sat in silence with one another, Alhex still trying to fix whatever broken circuit he was at and Felix sitting on the ground not to far away. With nothing else to do he started to hum to himself, absently cracking his fingers as he did so.

So absorbed in his mumbling Felix almost didn't notice the noise of Moneti's tinkering had stopped. Looking up he noticed the Guard officer was still staring forward into his junction box but had frozen.

"What are you singing?" Alhex asked and for once Gaeta realized he was genuinely interested in farther than his usual fly on the wall observations.

"It's something we use to sing as kids on _Picon_," Felix honestly shrugged. "It's just a hymn from temple."

"Please, don't let me stop you," Alhex encouraged him to continue.

"_Alone she sleeps in the shirt of man_," Felix sang, a long, almost sorrowful tone that resonated between the walls. "_With my three wishes clutched in her hand. The first that she be spared the pain. That comes from a dark and laughing rain. When she finds love may it always stay true. This I beg for the second wish I made too. But wish no more. My life you can take. To have her please just one day wake. To have her please just wake_-"

"Why'd you stop," Alhex asked, turning back from his work with a confused glance. "That was nice."

"Your ears," Felix pointed at his own for emphasis, "their twitching."

Sure enough Alhex's ears were wiggling back and forth, to which Felix found to amusing to no end.

"I... uhm... I... see... I see the broken crystal," Alhex exclaimed changing the subject and after one failed attempt to reach the high up crystal he turned towards Felix. "Give me a leg up will you?"

Stepping his left foot into Gaeta's waiting hand Moneti hoisted himself up. Already he was pushing the level of his strength, gravity has quickly starting to take hold.

"Almost got it," he groaned as his fingers latched onto the circuit and pulled. Unfortunately it came undone easier then the Lieutenant could have guessed. The gemstone snapped clean from its lock, sending Alhex flying backwards.

Felix tried to catch him but instead only just made a good landing pad to crash into.

The impact knocked the wind out of the two of them, their chests pressing against each other so hard neither could breath for a few seconds. As Gaeta opened his eyes to find Alhex only a centimeter from his, gray green eyes staring into his brown orbs. Their lips were only an ounce of air between them and Moneti breath was warm against his face.

He was so close he could almost-

Alhex broke the stare and quickly began to recover himself.

"Sorry," Moneti apologized, "I have to go... we have to go... "

* * *

"Report from Doctor Cottle," Dualla sighed, rubbing her eyes as she fought the sleeping pulling on the bottom of her lids.

"Twelve more cases of nervous exhaustion," Tigh moaned as he passed the report along, "that makes sixty-one."

"Have the Doc start pumping 'em up with stimulants," Commander Adama ordered as he took a long swig of his coffee. "Get them back on the line. Pilots too, one out every five, every other cycle they get rack time. Cylons won't wait if our birds are too tired to fly."

"That's gonna come back and bite us in the ass," Tigh stared him for such an the instruction.

"Yeah well," Adama directed, "we have too much work and not enough people to do it."

"Fuel report also," the communication specialist added as she handed over the paper. "Everyone is running low and but we have almost ninety ships including six _Battlestars_ are about to hit the red for good. We need your authorization to cannibalize our own reserves to keep them flying."

"I already signed one of these," the Commander grumbled as he passed the materials back.

"Yes sir, sorry sir," Dualla apologized. "Comm traffic too, from the President. Say's she'd like another meeting on the fuel crisis by tomorrow evening. She's had to order another forty ships to be grounded on the Space Guard's colony ships."

"Damn politicians," Tigh muttered. "Tell her will get back to her in the morning, if we're not all dead."

"Is this my ten minutes," Adama asked his second in command, "or is this yours?"

"Yours," Tigh shrugged. "I took ten last times."

"See you in the CIC then," the older man nodded as he leaned back into his couch, and in a few seconds was dozing.

Not wanting to interrupt this brief interlude of peace Colonel Tigh ushered Dualla out of the cabin.

"I believe it was your ten minutes, sir," the young woman said as the hatch door slide close.

"The old man's so tired," Saul disregarded, "he can't remember that it's his turn."

"I thought you were going to ship out on the next shuttle to the _Olympic Carrier_?" she asked.

"A few hours won't make a difference," Tigh muttered. "She'll still be there... "

* * *

Helo sighed in exhaustion as they crested the next hill, the gravel crunching underfoot as he stared up into the sweltering sun. Almost wish the rain would come again.

"We're almost there," he called back, Sharon shouted a groan in response. Slowly they descended the slopping bluff, the soft grass squishing under their boots. "I can't believe we haven't seen anyone, any buildings, any sign of civilization."

"Cylons drove you pretty far out into the wilderness," Boomer gasped. "Took me four fly-overs to find you. Didn't see any cities or towns on the way in."

"Strange," Karl commented. "You'd think we'd see something. It's like were on a totally different planet... this is it!"

The transmitter chirped, indicating they were closing in. It didn't take long for them to sight the structure.

"A cabin?" Helo stated the obvious, though a bit incredulously.

It was one of those generic designs, a box of wood with a pyramid roof and a small chimney rising upward. Almost idyllic... almost.

"We're almost on top of the signal," Sharon confirmed. "I don't get it, how does a military-coded signal end up coming from here?"

"Let's find out," Helo pressed forward.

The door rocked back, the old hinges shrieking and grinding against one another. Inside it was quaint, suffocating small, but a nice and homey. A stove sat in one corner, a coach, bed, even a stone fire-place dominating the back wall. And along the wall, a radio sat, a bleating warble coming from its wireless speaker.

"It's a disaster beacon," Helo whispered, reaching over and slowly switching the dial to off. "It probably set off in the attack."

"Food... medical supplies... " Boomer laughed, running her fingers over the stocked sleeves. "The Gods are frakking with us right?"

"Some poor slob goes to all the trouble of building a fallout shelter, stocks it, and has a beacon, the whole plan. Then what?" Agathon mused. "What happens to him?"

"Let's just call ourselves lucky and leave it at that," Sharon smiled...

* * *

Kyle Wilkins was not a happy man, his job demanded a lot of him and he hated his job. The _Astral Queen_, was once a pleasure cruiser, launching with hundreds of smiling tourists from one tropical location to another across the Colonies. Those days were long gone; very, very, impossibly, far away now. The luxurious rooms had been gutted, the swimming pool was replaced with atmospheric equipment, the atrium became one of many prison holds and her once creamy hull had become rusted and dented. _Astral Queen_ was now a prisoner ship, a ghost and leaper of her former.

"I'm a bus driver, not a warden," he mumbled as he stalked through the bowels of his ship. "We've been held up here waiting for docking at _Lunar Three_ and now they tell me I have to wait another four weeks until they rebuild the docking port. Tell me you're going to do something with these men."

_Lunar Three_ was nicknamed 'Cold Hell', one of the most notorious prisoners in the Twelve Colonies. Ruled with a iron-fist by legendary Warden Purdue, the moon-bound labor camp was a self-contained colony on _Tauron's_ third moon. A harsh unforgiving environment kept the two thousand-prisoners there from getting out of hand as they mined the rich titanium ore that enlaced the planet.

Lee bet most of the men aboard the _Astral Queen_ weren't too keen on a quick return to its cells.

"How many total," Apollo asked as he walked with the man, falling behind him Billy Keikeya, Specialist Dualla and the odd Guard engineer brought up the aft. At almost 2.5-meters tall the alien was among the weirdest Apollo had come across since they first encountered the Hegemony. Four flashy mandibles rubbed and clipped around a mouth that lack a bottom jaw. He believed they called himself Chief Hendal Kruxal, a Sanghelli from the world of _Sanghelios_.

"1,510," Wilkins announced as they moved out onto the catwalks that overlooked the numerous cells on the ground below. "They don't give me their files or their names. Hell, they're just numbers."

"How convenient," the older Guard woman quipped, Lee believed her name was Morrestown. "No chance of getting close to your charges."

"Who says I want to get to know them," Kyle grumbled. "Now, if we're done I have work to do. They're all yours."

"Let's get this over with," Lee grimaced as he took position over the prison floor. "I'm Captain Lee Adama, personal representative of the President. We're in a crisis. The Cylons have destroyed our largest tylium mine and our fleets are near exhausted of fuel, our military is about to be grounded. Now, the good news is we have found tylium. The bad news is its located on a moon with harsh environmental conditions. We need one thousand able-bodied men to help us get that fuel. President Roslin feels that you represent our best chance. She also recognizes that you are not slaves. Any man who volunteers to help us during this emergency will earn freedom points, which can be applied toward earning his release. We're offering you a chance for a new beginning. Whoever's interested, please, just step out of your cell."

Throwing his hand over his head, Apollo signaled one of the nearest guards to throw the switch. Further down on the deck the groaning of dozen cell doors echoed through the cargo hold, the age and rust fighting though eventually losing against the pressing screws.

With no barrier in the way, the guards were poised to deal with any violence that could erupt.

But no one moved, not a soul.

And then slowly someone in a red jumpsuit exited his wired cubicle.

"Thank you for your offer," his voice reflected up to the confused Colonial officer. "We respectfully decline."

"Oh, my gods," Billy gasped suddenly as his eyes locked with those of this particular prisoner, "that's... that's Tom Zarek."

"The terrorist?" Dualla sputtered.

"Zarek, Zarek!" a chanting mantra began to echo through the hold, each prisoner adding their voice, rising in volume as the seconds ticked away. "Zarek, Zarek!"

"So who is this Tom Zarek?" Morrestown asked over the rising amplification.

"He's a freedom fighter," Billy explained. "He's a– he's a prisoner of conscience."

"He's a butcher!" the young woman beside him roared.

"His Colony was exploited by the other eleven for centuries," the young man countered. "His people were marginalized, brutalized... "

"I'm from _Sagittaron_," Dualla clamored, "and that man does not speak for all of us. He blew up a government building, and there is no excuse for that."

The fight was a classic one, played out among almost every debate class or group of heavy drinkers at any given time.

Prior to the First Cylon War, _Sagittaron_ rivaled _Caprica_ as the most powerful world in the solar-system, regularly the two Colonies fought in numerous skirmishes before the Articles of Colonization were signed. Where _Caprica_ was known for its political prowess and immensely rich world, _Sagittaron_ was an industrial and military juggernaut, able to out produce goods faster than any other Colony could muster. With the invention of the first Cylons, their people had been eager to jump at the chance to improve their industrial power and overnight Sagittaron's markets skyrocketed.

But when the Centurions rebelled, _Sagittaron_ was sitting on a powder keg. Censuses before the conflict reported out of all the Colonies, _Sagittaron_ averaged four Cylons for every one human, meaning that when the keg blew, _Sagittaron_ was decimated. Thousands perished when the Colony's automated military turned on them and attacked, reducing the once powerful world to nothing in a night.

While the newly unified military of the Colonials drove the Cylons back, _Sagittaron_ was doomed.

Corrupt politicians and business leaders rebuilt her infrastructure, not to provide for necessity but for profit. Nearly all her goods were seized or _'repurposed'_ for government usage and then sold to other Colonies, reducing the _Sagittaron_ people to poverty and glorified labor camps.

Many accepted their fate, Tom Zarek was among those that rebelled... and failed.

"Captain," Chief Hendal tapped the man on the shoulder. "I've been watching the clock, and if we're not gonna get any help, we should move on."

"Zarek's got the prisoners united," Apollo deduced. "Let's go through him... "

* * *

It was hard to imagine, the powerful and exalted Hegemony still had their share of dark, seedy bars after so many thousands of years of civilization. The bar overlooked one of the war reclamation systems aboard the _Tripoint_, though to the Colonials and the untrained eye it appeared as a thundering waterfall that disappeared into a massive, endless metallic tube.

"Sir or madam," Felix looked up as a spidery, four legged alien approached them, a plastic tray under each of its three arms. "What can I bring you?"

"Ah, I'm a sir," Gaeta offered and a pause.

"I am sorry," the waiter bowed his long, snake like neck down in apology, "but my species is unable to differentiate the sexual dimorphism between male and female humans. I must apologize."

"It's alri..." he was about to tell the alien it meant nothing but he thought it was just another useless hint that he was an outsider. "What are you going to have?

"Something alcoholic," Alhex mumbled beside him, running a finger along the edge of the bar without ever once looking up at their server.

"Alcohol?" the Rubala man nodded. "What is your physiological type?

"Skree pole Nahan (_click_) pock," the Guard officer hissed out a long string of clicks and hoots. "He's skree pole Yahan (_pop_) pock."

"Ah, right here," the server typed a quick series of symbols into an arm-strap and waited just a second for the screen to flash back to him. "May I recommend something? A liqueur? Today's special for carbon-oxygen breathing life-forms is an Irish coffee."

"Sure..." Gaeta had no honest idea what an Irish coffee was. "Um, I'll have what he's-"

"What I'm having is too strong for him," Alhex cut him off in a second. "My companion will have Hysarian whiskey, thirty-four percent ethyl alcohol, with no other metabolic poisons."

"Yes of course," the waiter shot a look at Felix, who quickly gave a confirming nod before turning his five eyes back to look at Alhex. "And for you?"

"I'll be having a Sass't Ale," Moneti ordered, again without ever once looking up, "hold the salt, heavy on the pomegranate and arsenic, on the rocks with a lemon wedge."

"Good choices," and the server was off to make their drinks with a spring in his multi-jointed legs.

"So this is where we had to be?" Felix cast him a sidelong glance, a grin teasing the corners of his mouth to grow into a full smirk

"We have the panel fixed," Alhex shrugged without ever once taking his eyes off one of the floating holo-screens and the peculiar zero-gravity sports game it was showing, "but don't need to put it to any use until the meeting tomorrow. Since the shuttle back to Victory will take at least five more hours and by then the day is over why not get some enjoyment before turning in for the night."

"I'd argue," he said as he leaned back a bit on his bar stool, "but I haven't had a good drink in a long time."

"Then you will be glad to know one thing that is constant across the universe is two things," Alhex counted off on two fingers. "First, that long ago the worlds were a dark place prowled by ancient and deadly creatures… and second, the need to get drunk off whatever plant, liquid, gas or energy source was lying around."

"Kinda think number one could have influenced number two in that case," their waiter returned with their drinks, Alhex's was a dark purple with a frothy white foam and Felix's was a simple amber drink in a thin cup. Snatching up his cup, he tipped his head to his counterpart and saluted his glass to Alhex. "Well bottoms up."

"Maybe you should-"

He wish he had taken Alhex's warning because a second later he was cough against the acidic burn in his throat and fighting the bile rising in his throat.

"What… the frak!" he finally gasped when his breath returned to him.

"Hysarian whiskey is a little strong," Alhex laughed, for the first time finally looking at the red-faced Colonial.

"Little… strong!" he coughed between gasping breathes.

"Maybe I should have told the waiter to hold toppings," Alhex mused to himself as he started to turn back to his sporting program. "Hysarian droppings have a little too much methane for the first time drinker."

"This is frakking shi-"

"Is there a problem?" the waiter reappeared before Felix could finish what he was about to say about this particular drink.

"Yeah, need another," Alhex held up his empty glance. The spidery creature took the glance and went back to start preparing a second beverage. "What you consider waste another species could consider their finest cuisine. Though they put a moratorium on the consumption of sentient life until it has officially ended life functions."

"You mean there are aliens who eat people!" Felix spat.

"Only once their dead and with signed permission from the person," Alhex grinned at him, taking the drink the waiter delivered and took another long swig. "Actually _Earth_ has a common delicacy made from the flesh of Caranian, an intelligent jelly fish-like race. Most Caranian sell their bodies off to world famous sushi restaurants and use the funds to provide for their spawn to gain higher education."

"You're pulling my leg," the Colonial laughed at him, finding this the worse joke ever.

"You try sending all three thousand of your larva through college," he gave him a serious look, "with on only scholarships to pay the way. And most Caranian don't want to go to intra-planetary institutes... going out of solar system these days can cost a arm and a leg... literally."

"Fine," Felix decided to take such an argument with a grain of salt. "So why don't you tell me some more about _Samarang_?"

Alhex paused in mid sip of his second drink… almost as if Felix had struck a particular nerve and he was debating whether to ignore it or strike back.

"Why don't we go on to something more interesting?" Moneti pay no attention to the question.

"Come on," Felix pressed on, "I've barely had a chance to visit a third of the Colonies since I left Picon and I'd like to know some more about-"

"Hey!" Alhex pointed at one of the floating holo-screens. "Turn that up!"

Their Rubala waiter was quick to oblige, tapping a tiny up arrow on the side of the display as the volume quickly rose to just below a loud booming… enough to be heard over the clattering of the bar noises.

"… _news from across the Hegemony and beyond," _the program was already beginning when they could finally hear the announcer's voice over the crowd._ "With your anchors Sset LaMarcheberg and West Digga_."

The logo dissolved away to reveal the flustered Decapodian reporter quickly trying to gather his composure as he started to speak.

"_Ah… we have a developing story_," Sset began to speak as an inset screen appeared to the right of his head. "_This is live footage from Hinnom Station, orbiting over the Hegemony member colony world of Gehenna, where Jessuin Coalition warships have just crossed the territorial borders and… wait_…"

The inset screen now expanded and for the first time Gaeta got a real glimpse of a Hegemony world. A fleet of bulbous ships, built as if soap bubbles had been in the designer's mind of the time, were massing near a space habitat of some sort, built from three interconnecting saucers topped with a massive radio tower. Behind them a world of deep azure green and with dozens of smaller, gray moons floated in the backdrop of a dull red nebula.

Felix suddenly noticed that the noise in the bar had gone quiet as all eyes and optical organs had turned towards the flashing holo-screen.

"_Correction_," Sset announced in a voiceover. "_We have reports now that those ships belong to Jessuin royal heir Kodh Kalata... not the Coalition_-"

Everything on the screen and in the bar went silent when one of the forward most warships in the Jessuin fleet fired… and two seconds later as a violent, white explosion slammed into the side of the space station.

"_By the endless ocean_!" Sset gasped over the airwaves.

"_They've opened fire_!" the previously quiet West Digga now added his coverage of the attack. "_Unbelievable. Jessuin royal heir Kodh Kalata has just launched a personal invasion of Hegemony space. We repeat again, the heir to the royal Arch-directorship of the Jessuin Coalition has just attacked a station of a Hegemony member world."_

The space around _Hinnom Station _erupted into fire, the Hegemony facility opened fire with dozens of plasma cannons and missile batteries, downing several Jessuin ships in just a few seconds. But the interlopers were not deterred and opened fire with their own weapons, furious white beams and energy torpedoes struck the station, blasting off chunks of metallic armor and crumpling off an entire section of the lower saucer.

"_Okay_," Sset now came back, "_heavy fighting has erupted in Gehenna orbit and we now have confirmed reports of enemy troops being deployed on the ground_. _Gehenna's Governors Council has declared a state of emergency and order the colony's eight-hundred million colonists to seek shelter._ "

"_Look_!"West shouted, the camera showing the battle suddenly and rapidly expanding outwards… as the space around the besieged station began to erupt in thousands of flashing lights.

"_We now have visual confirmation of dozens, maybe hundreds of Coalition warships are now jumping into Hegemony territorial space_," the Decapodian reporter narrated the turn of events. "_This is a massive attack_!"

"_Local defenses are fighting back with everything they've got_," West added, "_but it looks like it won't be enough-"_

Still zoomed out and showing the continued incursion of the Jessuin fleet the camera was lucky enough to catch the flash of something else along the opposite end of the station. At first Felix believed it was another wave of Jessuin warships… until a vessel none to different then _Victory _exploded into reality and opened fire with the full force of its three plasma cannons.

The two Jessuin battleships crumbled under fire, half their spheroid vessels exploding into tiny bits.

"_Hold on," _Sset called out as the camera panned left to show a massive Hegemony fleet jumping and throwing itself headlong into combat._ "We are now seeing a Space Guard fleet composed of one... no looks like two heavy cruiser battle groups and one planetfall readiness armada has just jumped onto the battlefield_."

"_Military experts are saying_," West quickly added, "_that this unwarranted military attack by a member of the Jessuin royal family is a direct violation of the recent peace talks between the Hegemony and Coalition this week that was suppose to remove the blockade of Gehenna in exchange for economic aid to the Coalition worlds_."

"_We can now see fifty... no_," the Decapodian was fast to catch himself as another few frigates jumped onto the screen, "_seventy Space Guard ships have jumped in system and are returning fire. Intercepted communications report that Stellar Admiral Raafiq Jefferson, onboard the flagship Imitations of Kingdom, is ordering Kalata's fleet to vacate the Gehenna solar system immediately or face destruction_."

"I should contact the _Victory_ and find out what the situation is,"

And before Felix could react or say otherwise, Alhex was gone. Only the still frothing drink was the last remaining hint that he had ever occupied the stool beside him...

* * *

The chapel may have been nothing more than a minor amphitheater, one of those leftover when _Galactica_ had been a fighter and troop carrier during the last Cylon War. It was unused, out of the way and in serious need of repairs… which was probably one of the reasons Cavil thought it was lucky he had been assigned such a niche.

_It wasn't luck_, he thought to himself, _it was the will of God._

"Welcome," he greeted one of his arriving sisters, gesturing for her to join the others seated around the empty bleachers. "I see we don't have a Three or a Four here. That's interesting."

"I thought I saw a Four," Six commented in her knee high boots and revealing halter top, "plus one of my sisters was abroad a civilian ship in the fleet."

"Have you read through this?" Five said as he tossed one of Cavil's flyers onto the chair beside him. "It says there's a plan, right?"

"The plan is everything blows up a week ago," One grinned bitterly as he joined the group. "All humans are dead, and we Cylons all download, and the universe backs in justice. However-"

"It didn't frakking happen," the rough and tumble Six interrupted with a burning spit.

"Hmmm," Cavil liked her after only meeting her for a few seconds. "Exactly."

"So it's up to us?" Five asked.

"We can all get weapons," Two added sarcastically, finding this whole meeting in itself just a horrible sham. "Work our way separately across each ship, each Colony."

"Oh, there's a proposal on the table," Cavil liked to meet this dark humor with dark humor, show that he was not going to back down.

"Over a few billion victims each," Six grinned, wanting to see some blood spilt. "We'll be busy."

She leaned backwards, stretching her long and supple muscles and seductively into Two. Coyly smiling up at him, Two managed a nervous smile down at her.

"We can't do this on a case-by-case basis," Cavil found the idea however laughable but now it was time to be serious.

"Which is why we have to take out _Galactica_," Six quickly straightened up and got as serious as Cavil. "Adama commands the military, without him the military will fall to in-fighting and take the civilians with them. We can just sweep away the leftovers"

"But what about the aliens?" Two wondered with a bit of worry in his features.

"They can't be everywhere," Cavil eyes pierced Two into submission. "If the Colonials are destroyed then they won't have anything left to protect."

"We also have to think defensively," Six proposed. "Avoid threats to our detection."

"Very good," the model One nodded in agreement. "Now I have assignments I'm gonna give to each of you, along with our sleeper agent."

"There's a sleeper agent?" Two quickly jumped out of his seat with some interest, suddenly seeing a bit of success in this plan.

"Yes," Cavil confirmed. "An Eight. I'll talk to her."

"What about the other Four and my sister Six?" the young blond asked. "They haven't responded to the activation call."

"I'll deal with them in private," Cavil announced darkly, lost in his own preoccupations he didn't notice the look of concern shot between the other models for an instance. "Now, Two, you come with me. Let's get this genocide started…"

* * *

Halfway to her destination, Kendra drew her pistol at the sound of approaching feet around the corner of an upcoming intersection. Though she had no combat training Shaw's academy training and recent experiences kept her pressed against the wall with her gun poised. When she was sure that she had the upper hand she spun around the corner and Kendra brought the barrel of her gun to within a centimeter of a cowering deckhand.

The man almost screamed in terror but knowing time was of the essence and Kendra didn't have time for this.

"Go," she pushed the man off and quickly pressed onward.

Far off fire fights ricocheted through the bulkheads and though she could not see it Kendra could hear the screams of unfortunate people in the distance.

Gina ran as fast as she could and for a Cylon that was pretty fast. Rushing around a corner she managed to slow down just enough to find Kendra's gun barrel in her chest.

"They're coming this way," she said gasping for breath, "killing everyone!"

Moving her gun off Shaw quickly usher her onward.

"Go to CIC," she said. "You'll be safe."

Clasping her hand for a second as reassurance, she sent Gina on her way as Shaw headed deeper into the ship. She was about a third of the way to secondary damage control when the clanking of approaching Centurions made her freeze.

Pressing herself into the nearby bulkhead she was just missed by the passing robot. The hum of its rotating red eye sent shivers down Kendra's spin but she kept herself quiet, only the beating of her heart was the only sound she was voluntarily making.

For the longest time the automaton held position and Kendra had to think that the machine was playing games with her. Fear raced through her veins and the burning need to breath was starting to press her to the breaking point.

Finally the clatter of metal joints began to repeat again and the Centurion moved onward. Taking a chance Kendra snuck a look around the curve. For a instant the hall was empty but then a lone figure stepped into view at the far end.

"What the frak?" Shaw whispered.

No more than ten feet away stood Gina, just it wasn't her.

The woman could have passed as her twin in many ways, her hair was lighter and she wore a white suite nut her eyes, her face, it was Gina. Next to her a Centurion stepped into view, staring intently into the woman's eyes.

Kendra felt as if something had passed between the two and after a long gaze the two split, leaving the new Gina to begin approaching Kendra's hiding place.

Slowly it was as if someone had turn a light bulb on in Kendra's head and everything just clicked into place. Hatred started to bubble up in her heart and finally the gun in her hands only became an extension of her body.

The anvil clocked into place and bullets struck the Cylon before she had any chance of knowing who this enraged woman stepping out into the corridor was. Her beautiful white trench coat was splashed violent red and her limp body hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Shaw's body trembled in rage, anger and horror, staring at her friend, a friend she had just killed.

Then slowly her eyes traveled up from the body, glancing at the tiny black disk in the ceiling, a security camera. Knowing that time was of the essence Kendra shouldered her rifle and started running back towards the CIC and Gina.

* * *

Grated walls pass by, dark steel around the cells were designed to hold their prisoners for barely a few days, never for weeks on end. Apollo could understand some of the prisoners were bitter, but not that they had organized this quickly. Barely a week seemed inadequate for structured resistance.

Nevertheless it would make working through one man a bit easier than one thousand.

Tom Zarek was not a pillar of man. He was the former leader of the Sagittaron Freedom Movement, a terrorist group born from the former Citizens for Sagittaron Labor Reform, a peaceful publicly support organization that attempted to lobby the Colonial government for better treatment and benefits for its workers. When that failed the SFM had devoted itself to violence and overthrowing the government. After a bombing of the Ministry of Labor Headquarters in Sagittaron City, killing over two hundred innocent people, he had been captured and sentence to jail for his crimes. While no evidence existed to implicate Zarek for carrying out or even knowing about the terrorist strike before it occurred, his status as the group's leader and penchant to cause problems for the government were more than enough to toss him behind bars.

Apollo regarded him from the far side of his cell, evaluating his potential adversary before finally turning towards the guard.

"Guard... " Zarek formally announced. "Prisoner 891/893 requests permission to speak with this visitor."

"Granted," the stoic sentinel unlocked the cell and with a gesture, allowed the Captain to enter.

"I'm not allowed to speak unless asked a direct question," Tom regarded the man before him with mild amusement. "You didn't ask me a direct question. You've never been in a prison before, have you, Captain?"

"No," Apollo admitted.

"You're fortunate," Zarek smirked. "Please sit down?"

Sighing Adama slide onto the stool on the far side of the cell from his opposite.

"We need these men of yours to help us," he explained. "We're approaching a fuel shortage like the Colonies have never seen before. If something isn't done millions will be stranded."

"They're not my men," Tom shrugged, "they belong to you. I belong to you, you own us. You're the master, we're the slaves."

"You're clearly a man of principle," Apollo leered. "I respect that. The things you've stood for over the years, the book you wrote... "

"The book that had to be smuggled out of labor camp," the prisoner laughed, "because stumps aren't allowed freedom of expression?"

"I read it, in college," Lee disregarded the look Zarek shot him. "Thought it was radical, challenging. It made me question some things I'd accepted before without thinking."

"Nice to hear I'm a big hit on campus," the inmate chuckled.

"You aren't," Apollo gave the man a contemptuous smile, "the book was banned. I read it, anyway. The point is, I understand where you're coming from, but I don't think you understand how critical the situation is out there. People are gonna start dying."

* * *

"Call it," Helo flipped the coin end over end, the sparking cubit somersaulting upward in the air.

"_HEADS_," Sharon shouted through a mouthful of canned peaches, some of the juice dribbling from her mouth though she made no attempt to clean it.

Catching the coin back into his right palm, Helo clapped it onto the back of his hand and looked at their results.

"Heads," Karl nodded as he tossed the piece of metal back into his breast-pocket. "You win. You sleep, I'll take watch."

"No," Boomer shook her head, tossing the fork back into the now empty can and starting to rise, "you're the o ne who needs sleep."

"I couldn't sleep," Helo shrugged with a grin, "even if I had to listen to Tyrol read the flight manual. How about we just stay awake together."

"Okay," the woman seemed to agree with that.

"Truth is," he continued to pick away at the can of potatoes he had snatched from the cabin's amply supplied pantry, "if something happened to you, I wouldn't know how to deal with it."

She paused, still half-way to sitting back down in her seat, as she gave him an appraising glance to see if he was serious or joking.

"I feel the same way," Sharon responded after a long sigh.  
A long pause prevailed between them for a long time.

"Back on the ship," Helo asked, knowing where this conversation was leading and wanting to what it could reveal. "I, uh... look, I knew what was going o n. I mean, between you and the Chief."

"I think everybody did," Sharon couldn't help a guilty smirk.

"And I respected it," he said quickly, a little faster ten he intended at first. Taking a deep breath, he forced his heart not to beat so loudly in his chest. "Your feelings, his, but... I would have given anything to be him. Hey, I'm not trying to put you o n the spot, here. I don't wanna step into what you two have. You feel the way you feel and I have to respect that—"

"It's not true..."

* * *

A single guard stalked over the catwalk, his boots clanking against the metal as he finished his rounds. The prisoners were in their cells, his checks were complete and he was about to return to monotonous duty of babysitter very soon.

"Hey Stark," he greeted his comrade as he approach him from behind. "It's time for your break... "

The billy-club came down against the back of the other man's head before he had a chance to turn. Force and determination made it whistle before it landed with a heavy clunk.

Stark dropped hard.

Pressing the body out of the way, the guard turn assaulter, reached upward, his hands grasping around a worn lever. With one glance at his former friend, he yanked.

"All I want," Lee pleaded as he continued to sit across from Zarek, "is to offer you a chance to earn your freedom."

"Now, you've said the truth, _'freedom is earned'_," the sound of grinding screws caught Apollo's off guard as a smirk cross Tom's lips.

One after another the cell doors of the surrounding cages swayed open... and the prisoners began to pour out.

"Stay where you are, Captain," Tom smiled as the riot took on a life of its own. "It'll all be over soon."

Lee of course didn't.

Across the ship, the doors opened and the guards quickly found themselves overwhelmed by their former charges. On a ship as isolated as the Astral Queen, most didn't carry firearms, even less were actually loaded due to budget cutbacks.

In the command center, cleverly placed diversions left their struggle unknown by the command crew.

"How can you say that?" Billy could hide his shock as he lay back against the wall on the Astral Queen's bridge.

"Because it's the truth," Dualla fought back. "Zarek and the SFM, they don't care about justice... "

"These people... " Billy countered, "your people have been exploited!"

"You cannot tell me about my people!" she shouted back.

"The value of your opinions have merit," Hendal grinned as he sat back from the Colonial pair. "But if you intend to mate, please do it somewhere more private."

A look at dumbfounded shock was shared by the man and woman.

"We do not want to... _mate_," Dualla leered, though a dejected look of Billy face was more than enough to hint otherwise from the other party.

"Well then," Kruxal laughed, "you could have fooled me. Pheromone release, dilation of pupils, flushing of the male's blood to the lower extremities as the female postulates herself as unwilling but seductive. If it is not your intention to mate then you have thoroughly destroyed my understanding of human beings."

"Excuse me," one of the guards suddenly pushed passed them as he tried to check the monitors. "They're all off-line!"

Wilkins wasn't far behind him.

"We know no one in engineering is responding," the warden explained. "Which means they've probably already taken that position?"

"What is going on?" Dualla asked.

No one answered as the gas grenade the floor and detonated a breath later.

Six bodies hit the floor, slumping over consoles and onto the ground as blackness overcame them all.

As the smoke cleared, the atmospheric systems working overtime to clear the mist, two people clad in gas masks, entered the bridge with grim satisfaction.

"We've got the guards and crew in separate cells in block seven," one of the muffled voices announced. "Mason is looking after the hostages."

"Nice job," the other nodded. "The men are organizing exactly as planned. I knew I could count on you..."

* * *

Doctor Xianextnucatoital's office was a bit on the sterile side, but for the Chief Medical Officer it wasn't a surprising back drop for a doctor's office. White walls, a white desk, a single white sitting stool for the avian, okay it was getting on Vonaka's nerves of how devoid it was of all other colors.

"Sorry about the wait," Xianextnucatoital apologized as he entered, looking a bit flustered, "but I thought you'd want to see it."

"What do you have for me, Doctor?" the Admiral nodded, accepting the delay without a concern and happy for some kind of distraction of the consent bickering of the Colonials and protocol of the Guard.

"As you know when we took on the survivors from _Theia_ a lot of them required medical attention," the avian explained. "During that time I had the computer run full spectrum scans on the Colonials to screen for allergies and prior health conditions. After our patient influx settled I decided to take a look at some of those scans and DNA profiles. What I found was startling."

"Is there something wrong with the Colonials?" the implication not only startled Volaska but started a dozen different ideas of how this was only going to strain Hegemony-Colonial relations even further.

"Not naturally and that is what is intriguing me. I did a rotation in the _Earth _city of Detroit a few cycle back_,_ in the gene-therapy ward and had to be up to date on all human genetic engineering history," Xianextnucatoital activated a holographic template of a human body, the blue transparent image flickering of his desk. "Here you see the normal anatomy of a Human male from the Hegemony and next to it, a Colonial male. See anything different?"

"No," Vonaka admitted, medical anatomy not being one of his strong suites.

"Here," Xianextnucatoital pointed specifically to a small protrusion along the lower intestine, "this is called an appendix, a redundant organ that was an evolutionary left over that formerly helped in a Human's digestive and immune process. While Humans from _Earth_ have genetically removed this organ as of 2180, the Colonials still have it. Before that the appendix was modified significantly in the 2040's onward before it was finally eliminated after prenatal-gene therapy became legal. That modified appendix is present in the Colonials."

"So you're saying that the Colonials most likely split from their Earth cousins between 2040 and 2180," Vonaka noted the math out-loud just to be sure. "That's a 140 cycle time span for a lot of people to disappear from. It was also one of the most turbulent times in their specie's history and the height of their colonial imperialism."

"Yes," Xianextnucatoital agreed, "but I can narrow that further by going more in-depth to their anatomy and genes. In 2087, the genetic chromosomal disorder called Down syndrome was corrected, those markers are present in the Colonials, same with a neurological disorder called Huntington's disease, eliminated again through genetic engineering in 2110. Around this time gene-therapy for all people leaving to settle on the colony worlds outside of _Sol_ was mandatory. Diabetes, near sightness, allergies, most of these were cured during this time since any new colony couldn't medically support most disabilities when they were just starting out. These modifications are again present in Colonials."

"So you think that one of these groups that left after 2110 were the ancestors of the present day Colonials?" Vonaka inquired. "But during that time the Solorian Federation had been in existence for a decade and before that they only had one record of a colony ship disappearing. The _Mayflower_, 2045, which was later explained to have been captured by the Russian Consortium and its crew executed."

"Yes, but if you look at the last notable genetic modification, the removal of the tonsils from the DNA code, at 2165, you can guess the latest possible day the split occurred," Xianextnucatoital countered. "What event happened right after that, resulting in the loss of contact with dozens of Federation colonies and the death of a good portion of the human population?"

"_The Great War,_" both men turned to find a young human woman facing the two, clad in a seductively-revealing dress that left little to the imagination. "_Sorry Doctor, but I completed the medical stock check in the Colonial fleet so I contacted you. I didn't mean to interrupt_."

"No, it's not problem Novice Sienna," Xianextnucatoital invited her in. "You are human and a Novice of Holy Gaia. Why don't you enlighten us?"

Novice Jeanette Sienna was a member of the recently arriving relief ships from the Centralized Crisis Organization, the disaster relief branch of the Hegemony. She was also a practicing Novice, a known group of elusive and mysterious sisterhood that worship the _Earth_ spirit Gaia. Novices were rare, in high demand and known for being breathtakingly beautiful, to find one in the Greater Magellanic Cloud was a chance, miracle or omen.

"_It was the darkest time in human history_," Sienna regaled them. "_The Russian Consortium attacked the Solorian Federation and wiped out most of the outer worlds and half the core colonies. Two billion people died before we managed to gain the upper hand after two decades of war and establish victory. It was the last conflict where human fought human, when we expelled the Lost_."

"The Lost," Vonaka muttered, remembering a distant memory of a week he spent in the Member World Fleet cultural exchange program onboard a Federation freighter. "I've heard human officers I have served with referred to that but they never explained what or who they were."

"_With good reason_," Sienna continued. "_As children we have stories of monsters that lived in the void, once Humans we cast them out of the light when they proved too dangerous, too horrible. They committed crimes that sicken us even today and we hunted them down, pursued them to the edge of known space and destroyed them_."

"A bit zealous for humanity," Xianextnucatoital quipped, never a true believer in the lofty god-like nature most Hegemony members Humans had unwilling garnered.

"_It was a different time_," the Novice shrugged off the obvious dislike the Guard doctor threw at her. "_Our people were younger. But suffering through it, having to rebuild after it and dealing with the scar made us wiser. The Consortium resorted to genocide, biological warfare, weapons of planetary destruction and willful experimentation on civilian populations. They were a irreconcilable mirror of our people's and looking at what Humans could only do at their worse made us try to never become like them. Without it the Federation would not be what it is today_."

"Sienna," Vonaka finally asked, knowing a question that had been irking him since the CCSO had sent a Gaia priestess to deal with a polytheist religion. "Why did they send a Novice to represent the Centralized Crisis Supervision Organization?"

"_The Guardians are concerned for this very reason_," Sienna sighed, knowing the cat was out of the bag, "_that the Colonials are a surviving remnant of the exile Consortium war criminals. Our Seers and Oracles on Earth prophesize a darkness falling over the Hegemony, that the Colonials will play a key role in coming events. Whether they are the cause or the solution we don't know but they sent me here to ascertain if they are a danger... and must be dealt with_."

Both the Admiral and the Doctor stiffened a bit.

The Guardians of Los Angeles, to which the Novice sisterhood was a subsidiary of, were one of the most influential and powerful groups in the Federation, the leaders of one of the three major religions of the human race. Next to the Muslim Caliph in Mecca leading the Muslim faith and Buddhist Dalai Lama from the sacred cities on _Mercury_, the Guardians held the greatest sway in the Congressional Dome.

If the Guardians supported the Colonies the people of these worlds would find their cousins on Earth racing to their aid. But if the Guardians vowed a religious jihad on the Colonials would be in serious danger.

"Well I can tell you that the Colonials are not descendants of the Consortium humans," the good doctor however disproved.

"_And how do you know that, Doctor_?" Jeanette responded a bit too unimpressed.

"This," Xianextnucatoital activated a small holo-screen with a tiny wiggling cell dancing about; "it's a specific T-cell that I isolated, a genetic immunity to Hepatitis. During the war the Consortium employed a biological weapon called Hepatitis D-2 on the outer colony worlds. Highly infectious on worlds with large bodies of water the Federation vaccinated their population between _Earth_ cycles 2171 and 2174 before the Russians abandoned the virus. The Consortium never vaccinated against this so it is not present in their gene pool and only entered the Russian's genome when the conquered people started to interbreed with the Federation about two decades later. Since the Colonials split before that, they could not be descended from the Consortium."

"Were there any colonies or people that were lost or disappeared during that three cycle period?" Vonaka asked towards Novice Sienna.

"_That's an understatement. The Consortium either invaded or nuked thirteen populated worlds_" the woman nodded before lifting a small flexi into view, "_Pierrepont Alpha, Cadman II, Brooklyn, New Earth, Carlen, Trinity, Cedar, Neu Brandenburg, Buckingham, Kraken, Olympus, Spiro and Londonium… over forty million people estimated dead_."

"Federation records from that time are obscure due to the War," Volaska surmised, "We can run a cross examination algorithm into the Central City Grand Library and the Interstellar Wikipedia Database-"

"_We have a situation_," everyone jarred as a very rushed AI appeared before them all. "_A prison rebellion on one of the Colonial civilian ships has gone out of control. Hostage situation reported, shots fired_."

"Was anyone injured?" Xianextnucatoital asked, his medical training kicking in as he pulled his white coat on.

"_Initial reports are vague, unknown at this time_," Alli noted. "_But several of Commander Adama's and Space Guard personnel were among those abroad at the time_."

"I don't like the sound of this. Have there been demands?" Vonaka inquired.

"_Extensive_," Alli informed them. "_A Tom Zarek seems to be the leader of the operation and is demanding that President Roslin immediately resign and open free elections or he'll start killing the hostages. He has listed a detailed list of necessitates also, the resignation notwithstanding_."

"_This will almost certainly put the Cylons on edge_," Sienna cracked. "_We could inadvertently have a diplomatic crisis in the making_."

"Let's get to the command deck," Vonaka nodded towards his AI, "Novice Sienna, my chief communication specialist is on _Virgon_, so you have are the next highest ranking diplomatic expert I have. Head to _Galactica_ and find out what the hell is going on-"

"_Sir_," Alli interrupted him without hesitation, stopping the Admiral in his tracks, "_there's something else. The feed is just coming through on ISN now but we can expect a direct report from Galactic Fleet Headquarters shortly_-"

"Spit it out Alli!" the Anchallian hissed.

"_The Jessuin have attacked the Hegemony colony world of Gehenna_," Alli stated, waiting just a second for the information to sink in. "_All reports indicate this to be a massive, intentional and well-armed incursion to annex the entire settlement_."

"Which means the Space Guard is going to be called in," Vonaka outwardly winced, even as his insides tightened, "along with elements of the Member World's Fleet."

"Yes sir," the AI nodded.

"What does that mean?" Xianextnucatoital inquired at both the computers and his commanding officers stark reactions.

"It means our reinforcements have been delayed… indefinitely…"

* * *

The CIC was tense, everyone among the lower ranks were shooting heated looks as the scowl on their commanding officer's face only got worse.

"_The crew are my prisoners_," Zarek's voice boomed over the comm. speakers. "_They will not be harmed._"

"Are you recording this?" he turned to his supporting officer.

"Yes, sir," Kelly confirmed.

"What this?" Tigh commented as he entered the CIC.

"Trouble," was all Adama would say.

* * *

"Forwards cannons have a lock," Belzen reported as the gunnery crews reported a clean shot.

Cain had only one word, "Fire!"

The forward guns of the _Pegasus_ roared into existence, four shells of compressed iron and depleted uranium laced across the space and hit the communication array in rim of its upper disk. With most of its internal space devoted to transmission and dradis equipment the facility had little in the way of dedicated armor. The force of four casings punching into her hull ripped the array to shreds, sending its three lower arms spinning off into space as the main body vaporized into thousands of pieces.

"Direct hits," Colonel Fisk declared as the dradis contact faded from the screen. "Dradis confirms Cylon array destroyed."

Gina embraced Helena, Fisk gave an arm pump and a broad smile spread over Jurgen's face. The cheer that went up around the CIC was short lived as a gun cocking caught everyone's attention.

"You!" Kendra roared as she pushed her rifle into Gina's face. "Step away from the Admiral."

"Lieutenant!" Helena was aghast.

"I said, step away from the Admiral. Now!" Shaw wasn't backing down and quickly motioned towards the marines guarding the entrance to the CIC. "You two, take her into custody."

"Belay that," Cain yelled, "Lieutenant, what the hell is going on?"

"She's a Cylon spy!" Shaw sputtered, still training the gun on Gina. "They look like us. Mister Hoshi, can you please show us the security feed from airlock 4?"

"Kendra you don't want to do this... " Gina whispered but it was too late.

Everyone looked upward at the screens and the cameras panned down to show the lifeless body of the Cylon agent.

"She sabotaged this mission," Kendra explained. "She led us into a trap and probably caused the attack at the shipyards."

"Frakking machine," Fisk muttered as he took a menacing step towards Gina.

"I never did anything!" Gina protested.

"You pretended to be my friend to get my access codes," Shaw continued her triad. "Then you used them to let the Cylons onboard."

"Lieutenant," Cain finally interrupted. "We just finished combing through the data logs... your code was never used to override the systems."

"What?" Kendra shot her commanding officer a bewildered look.

"Mister Hoshi," Cain ordered, never taking her eyes from Shaw, "security feed from Network Control, main office. Panning view to follow Inviere from start of boarding until her entrance into the CIC."

The security feeds shifted, showing Gina as she left the Network Administration Office and began running towards the CIC. It was a choppy mix of multiple clips from different angles, all following after the lone woman.

Even her encounter with the gun trotting Kendra and their brief exchange followed as again the dirty blond head of hair was bouncing and bounding across the deck as far as her legs could propel her.

For a second she was home free... until an identical version of herself stood in her path.

It was like a bad action movie, the evil clone confronts its original... though no one could tell if one or both the women were the real villain.

"Crank up the volume," Cain ordered.

"..._Six_," the sound was horrible but everyone distinctly heard the anger in the twin's voice. "_What the frak are you doing_?"

"_I am not a lackey of yours anymore_," venom dripped in Gina's voice as she took several steps back from her doppelganger. "_I can make my own choices and I choose to stay with my crew_."

"_So that is how they resisted our cyber attacks_," the twin finally understood. "_You've been helping them. God will damn you immortal soul for this betrayal. Give me the codes to their computer network and you can be spared his wrath_."

"_Sorry_," Gina's didn't seem to sincere in her apology, "_But I don't answer to you anymore_."

"_You do answer to me_," all eyes bulged as the identical version of Colonel Fisk came around the corner to join the opposing Six. "_And you have to answer to God almighty for the frakking mess you made today_."

"Marines!" Cain hollered. "Take Colonel Fisk into custody... NOW!"

The two men hesitated for just a second for moving forward... and it was that hesitation that Fisk used to his advantage. Vaulting forward, he knocked the weapon out of the nearest and stunned marine, reached up and with frightening strength for a man they all thought of as so feeble... he snapped the soldiers neck in an instance.

Without missing a beat, he snatched up the man's still falling weapon, leveled it and fired.

The other soldier and a communication technician directly behind him went down in a hail of gun fire.

Snapping the weapon around before anyone had time to realize that in less those five seconds the Colonel had taken out three people, Helena found the barrel end of the gun pointed right into her face.

A dark smirk played on the man's lips, as two formerly weathered and detached eyes flared with terrifying anger.

"Any last words, Admiral?" he nearly lost the words in laughter...

Until a spray of bullets caught him in the shoulder and stomach.

He hit the deck, a splatter of hot, red blood on the deck as Fisk gasped for breath, working his mouth but only discovering a pain gasp escaping his lips.

During the entire exchange, the video replay continued to move on the above head screens.

"_I don't owe you anything, One_," Gina's eyes shot daggers at the man.

"_We're machines_," One grinned at her. "_We aren't supposed to feel anything_."

"_Good_," Gina's voice was cold as steel, just as bitter as pistol she pulled from behind her back. "_Then this won't hurt too much_."

The sound of a gun firing sent a shiver down everyone's spine as the Fisk-copy and the Gina-copy hit the floor hard, a string of smoking craters adorning their chests and most of the hull-plating behind them... the same gun Gina was now pointing at the air that Colonel Fisk had just occupied.

"Get him out of my sights!" Cain roared, as two new marines raced forward and dragged the former Colonel out of the CIC.

Eyes however remained exclusively on Gina... and what she would do next.

"I am a rogue agent," Gina narrated; she dropped the weapon onto the tactical information table with a spat of disgust, "working with Cain against the Cylons. We couldn't tell anyone because I didn't know the identity of the other Cylon stationed on this ship. You may not like it but I had a lot of chances to betray you including last night when you gave me your access code."

"Lieutenant," Cain slowly reached a hand out and pushed Kendra's weapon towards the floor, "if she had meant to betray you, Gina could have easily taken control of the ship or disabled our weapons. Why would she work to strengthen our system, fight off attacks on our firewalls and then kill a fellow Cylon?"

For a long second Kendra held her gaze with Gina's pleading eyes, unable to break away as the grip tightened on her rifle. The betrayal stung, how she could have never told Shaw of such a deep secret, they were friends after all.

She was a Cylon, a creature that had caused untold death on her homeworlds. How could she ever treat her like a friend again? After those late nights repairing the broken systems, trading stories of embarrassing moments, the closest confidant she had now turned against her with the biggest secret of her life.

The rifle left Kendra before she knew what she was doing and landed in Gina's. A somewhat perplexed expression on crossed the Cylon's face as the heavy weapon weighed down her hands.

"Your shot," Shaw said her eyes impassive but her lips slowly curling, "it's horrible..."

* * *

24-thousand light cycles from the buzz and hum of the space ports of _Earth_, sat a world that's name was just as famous as the great blue ball's.

_Tri-Varn_... its name meant '_unity_' in old Kintari... now christened the capital world to a three galaxy spanning empire.

Where _Earth_ had been densely populated, amazingly cultured and stepped in thousands of years of history, _Tri-Varn_ had taken that one giant leap further. Two million member races turned towards this singular world for guidance, to console them in their darkest times, lead them into the light of peace and generally keep their vastly varied societies all running smoothly.

Deep inside the galactic core of the Milky Way, the planet was home to over a hundred-billion sentients from all across the universe. Whether a Hegemony citizen or otherwise, the sheer number of diplomatic, commercial and political connections that were intertwined and woven across its surface attracted traders, ambassadors and wanders of all sorts.

Planned from the foundation of the Hegemony, _Tri-Varn_ had been meticulously built and developed so that every detail was monitored. To rule three galaxies required attention on a scale imaginable by only a god, its architects had to come as close as possible.

_Tri-Varn_ was an ecumenopolis after all, an ancient Greek word meaning a city made of the whole world. The entire planet was one global sprawling metropolis, interconnected with transportation trunks and overhead walkways. There was no continents, no oceans; every inch of the planet was covered in graceful and geometric towers.

A metropolis that never ended, never started, just was everywhere.

A city world.

Yet among this massive world of steel, glass and concrete, one tower stood separate, the most well-known building in the entire Hegemony.

The Tower of Governance.

Seskito couldn't help but feel a twist of nervous glee in his stomach as the lift car continued its eight-hundred story rise up the side of the galactic famous building. He had never believed in all his service in the Space Guard, even after he was appointed to _Galactic Fleet Headquarters_ as the Grand Fleet Lord's attaché, that he would ever be in this building.

In this building _and_ having a private audience with Empress Oreska.

Now that nervous glee just turned to outright fear.

He was about to have an audience with Empress Tal'mari Oreska… thirty-fifth Kintari to hold the title of Empress, five elected terms in office, almost fifty-cycles altogether. She had been the deciding hand that had ended the _Third Pyrian-Hegemony War_, the voice that convinced the Chirpsithra to join the empire, merging the second and fifth largest powers in known space to take the rank of largest civilization in the explored universe. Under her tenure the woman had brought more member worlds into the nation, established more trading alliances and ended more wars than any previous ruler had ever accomplished.

And at the mere age of three hundred she wasn't even considered middle-age by Kintari standards… a race that had no concept of aging, natural death or the truly alien concept of retirement.

_How am I supposed to keep a respectable front_, he thought desperately to himself.

Grand Fleet Lord Hauser must have sensed his discomfort as he chuckled to himself.

"Everyone who meets Oreska always feels out of place," the human laughed in the hot air of the lift car. "I remember when I was a bleary eye Captain just like you and I had an audience with her during her third-cycle in office. Even if her track record is now a mile long, I was still as nervous as you are now."

"And what did you do to get over that?" Seskito asked.

"I'll tell you after the meeting is over," Thorsten grinned at him a little to knowingly for the young Cardassian to understand and before he could the lift reached its destination.

"_Floor_ _eight-hundred thirty four,_" a computerized voice announced as the doors parted. "_Please watch your step and first time visitors please avoid the windows as atmospheric vertigo tends to be prevalent at these heights. If un-avoidable, please dispose of unregulated waste in the proper receptacles. Thank you and have a nice day."_

They moved on down the corridors, both men holding their spines erect and keeping their heads held high as they walked through the plush and beautiful halls… which we entirely too quiet for an office that ran several million light-cycles of space and an incalculable number of sentients.

But it didn't mean they were along.

Among the fine antiques on marble pedestals and hanging paints depicting some of the greatest moments in Hegemony history… stood the Jem'Hadar.

They were towering figures, unmoving and staring straight ahead. The presence of the Grand Fleet Lord did nothing to impress them or garner their attention. They were only here to protect the Empress.

Bred for battle, the Jem'Hadar had excellent vision, the strength of four humans, hadn't the requirement to sleep and needed nothing but a daily infusion of ketracel-white. Liberated when the Founder Dominion were annexation into the empire several millenniums ago, the entire race was once the front-line shock troops of the former shapeshifting Founders and their Vorta underlings. With the toppling of their leaders, they swore allegiance to the Hegemony Emperores and Empress… they would serve and protect them as their personal protection, the perfect protection.

Seskito had heard rumors as a child, the when Emperor S'ssarassi's personal transport had been down by Turanic Raiders the Jem'Hadar had held the lines for three days until they had ran out of energy packs for their weapons… and then started using their own bodies to protect the only plasma based life form to hold the President's office from almost certain death.

But those were stories… stories that now seemed all too real.

"State your business," Seskito hadn't realized they were at the doors until he found Hauser and himself being glared down to by the reptilian skinned humanoid.

"We come for an audience with her highest," Hauser answered with neither reservation, fear or interest.

These seemed to neither insult nor interest the Jem'Hadar either.

"You are cleared for discussion," the towering monster bowed out of the way but Seskito happened to notice the entire time his plasma rifle was held clocked and ready between his muscular fingers.

And as he stepped out of the way the massive wooden doors the barred them slide away, leading them into the chambers of elected royalty.

They were in the presence of the Empress...

She was the leader of the empire, the hand that shaped politics in the largest nation in known space; her words could bring armies forth from nothing or tear them down just as fast. It was the closest step most people got to being a god, being able to change the face of three galaxies with merely a blink of your eye.

Empress Tal'mari Oreska was the elected representative of the nation, a respectable but soundly logical leader, who saw the merits in diplomacy but the necessity of the military to keep the nation strong and functioning.

She was the most level headed person in their entire civilization.

"No, I will not move your planet!" the woman shouted at the hovering hologram of some distant and nameless senator. "What do you want to move it for? It's fine right where it is!"

"_But your excellence_-"

"Don't you but me," the man clamped his mouth shut the moment she shouted back at him. "_Morrag III_ is suffering an economic crisis and you really believe it is because your planet's orbit is too far from the sun to, and I'm quoting you on this, _'to attract a proper amount of tourists because our winter seasons are too long_.' Am I correct in my understanding of the situation, Senator Nact."

"_Yes_," the hologram bowed his head in confirmation. "_But I really think_-"

"You think," she cut him off again, "that by moving your planet two astronomical units closer to your sun that the current billion or so credits you unwisely invested will come pouring back in? Senator, I will not sanction this petition to the Federal Senate, if you wish to pursue it then it won't be with my backing. But understand also that I will be issuing a tribunal investigation in the economic dealings on _Morrag III,_ including incompetence by their elected representatives!"

Stabbing a finger down on her desk, the hologram of the protesting senator dissolved into pixilated oblivion.

"I'm sorry, gentleman," she sighed from the distant side of her desk, whipping a hand to push away the sweat on her furrowed brow, "but after more than five decades as the elected Empress, I am starting to lose my patience with the political idiocy this government can sometimes display."

"A problem that we sadly deal with on _Galactic Fleet Headquarters_ as well, madam Empress," Hauser bitterly groused.

"Then please sit, gentlemen… we have much to discuss and little time to do so…"

* * *

She pushed the sun glasses back onto her nose; the grin she was sporting was just as comical, especially as she was addressing a ready room full of pilots.

"Now, one of you has been coming in a little hot lately," Starbuck puffed on her cigar for a bit before continuing, "a little too hot. A little, um, oh, I don't know, 'he's burning up the deck with his skids because he just can't pull back o n the throttle' hot. Now, who is this speed demon? 'Flattop'! You got a need for speed, do ya? Just can't wait to get back to the big '_G_' in the lovin' embrace of your fellow pilots? Or maybe you have a hot date with your right hand."

Flattop only grinned. "Hey, it never gets a headache."

"Tell you what, Flattop," Kara grinned. "You come in too hot today, you may have to start using your left. All right, you've been fun. You've been a great audience. Dismissed."

Snickering among themselves the pilots filled out... and promptly whipped the smiles from their faces as Colonel Tigh pushed pass them with a scowl on his face.

"What do you think you're doing?" he growled. "There's no smoking in the ready room."

"My room, my rules, sir," a mocking Starbuck said as she pressed the butt of her cigar into the corner of her mouth as the smoke escaped her lips.

"A pilot blows his landing and you make a joke out it?" Tigh barked.

"Screaming at people doesn't always get the best results, sir," Thrace snarled. "I learned that at officer that at officer candidate school."

"You are right on the edge, Thrace," Tigh threatened. "Careful you don't fall off."

"Speaking of falling off..." Starbuck beamed, "glad to see you found a way to quench your thirst with something that doesn't have a burn to it. Now what can I help you with."

"Apollo's team on the Astral Queen was taken hostage," Saul reported. "We'll need to pull a few pilots to ferry our marine's team over to take back the ship."

"I'll grab my gear," Kara nodded.

"If you think I'm letting you anywhere near this mission," Tigh scowled, "you've crashed your _Viper_ one too many times. You're a loose cannon and I will not frakking let you near this mission. Go get yourself cleaned up pilot... "

Tigh turned on his boots and left, a glower spreading behind him...

* * *

She stared through the unbreakable glass, trying to hide the contemptuous grimace that was playing on her lips.

"Gina thinks we figured out how he bypass her new programming," Kendra stood beside her, flipping through several hastily scribbled pages of notes, trying to avert her eyes from the body on the other-side of the wall. "He must have inserted a second line of coding during the initial refit when we were still in dock at _Scorpia_."

"Damn smart," Helena admitted, even if her cold eyes never hinted at the accomplishment. "Slide right under our noise by a simple command in a non-critical system."

"Cost us a lot of good lives," the Lieutenant now locked eyes with the prisoner, hard and piercing though the Cylon never looked away. "The price we paid was my fault."

"How do you figure that, Lieutenant?" she was genuinely surprised by the woman's declaration.

"It was my job to scan the computers with further Cylon tampering," Kendra explained, still not breaking her eyes from Fisk. "He... it... must have counted on the fact that I wouldn't have considered a non-critical system worthy to be checked."

"No," Helena disagreed, "you gave it something far more important than that. You gave it your trust, as did I. It was Fisk that volunteered to complete the computer survey... I could have stopped him just as much as you... He preyed on our trust."

The doors behind them opened and an older, hard-faced man entered the room.

Lieutenant Alastair Thorne was never a happy man. As a child he was the product of his mother's brief affair with a passing businessman, something his stepfather enjoyed to remind him to no end as he beat him every night. A violent and abusive childhood of course breeds a violent and abusive man, the prefect disposition for a career in interrogation.

Cain would have preferred to keep this man somewhere far away, somewhere his talents at prying information violently from his subjects wasn't within her view.

But she needed him for this job.

_"_Lieutenant Thorne," the Admiral nodded at the approaching officer, "I want you to interrogate our Cylon prisoner, find out everything it knows. And since this creature managed to override most of our security codes while completely fooling all of us, I'm its mission must have been of the most critical intentions, so..."

She paused, thinking her choices for just a second before coming to a conclusion.

"Pain, yes, of course," Cain nodded. "Degradation, fear... shame... I want you to really test its limits. Be as creative as you need to be."

"Yes, sir," Thorne couldn't help squelch the glee of getting to perform an execution.

Crossing the room in just two strides, Thorne entered the cell... and no one could say there wasn't a flash of fear in Fisk's eyes as his mind recognized the man.

"Lieutenant," Helena began to make her exit, "come with me... You don't wanna see this..."

* * *

"My young attaché would be more than happy to explain the situation for us," Thorsten grinned as he gestured to the man seated beside him. "Seskito, if you would?"

Fire rose in Seskito's stomach and for a second he truly believed if he did open his mouth the result breath of fire he would release would scorch the beaming man into the fine carpet.

"From.. ah…" Seskito managed to force the words out, one after another the voice in his throat began to push the words out, "from what we have gathered from intelligence reports and first-hand experiences by our forces located in the Colonial star-system, we are dealing with a Human civilization around a Tier Three in technological development but still only expanding at the rate of a Tier Four."

"They have interstellar capabilities in the form of FTL," Hauser added in a more informal tone, "but have expanded very little outside of their home solar system."

"That at least means some serious territorial claim disputes can be avoided for the time being," Oreska nodded as she brought up the cultural profile of the Colonials on her personal holo-screen. "Current population of these worlds?"

"Around fifty-billion…" Seskito quickly offered like an eager student. "Though recent death tolls due to the Cylon incursion cost them about five to six billion in lives."

"Bet they've never experienced a hit that bad before?" the Empress commented as she began to calculate the numbers in her head. "Aid being deployed?"

"A relief fleet was in preparations…" Seskito answered, "but being as it was the closest to deal with the expanding situation at Gehenna, it was re-diverted for the time being. No other units are available without taking warships off the Scarran border or off heavy patrol."

"I believe we could shore that up with some ships from the Member Worlds," Oreska noted.

"President Biedon has been making it very clear she is considering this a '_human interest situation'_," Hauser took this question before Seskito could answer.

"Biedon's a bit overzealous at times," Oreska nodded at the woman's name, "but her intentions are always for the good of the people and she knows when not to overstep herself."

President Biedon was after-all was leader of the Solorian Federation, not one of the largest member nations in the Hegemony, not the most populous but the oldest and most influential. When the primates of Earth took a step forward, the rest of the known worlds made a mad dash to follow.

Thankfully humanity rarely abused their role as the most powerful member of the Hegemony, Oreska was greatly relieved the Federation had long since establish a track-record of not abusing its power.

So those few times they decided to put their foot down Oreska couldn't argue with them and even if she did, the fact Biedon had committed a dreadnaught to field action was enough to get every other member world to start tossing fleets at the Colonials.

"She made it very clear to our liaison on Earth," Hauser said profoundly, "she wants to take point in this."

"Fine," Tal'mari sighed, "let her have it for now."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate it," Hauser nodded.

"The Taryn Herd has expressed interest in committing several of their ships to the relief efforts," Hauser added, already knowing his suggestion was not going to be greeted with a smile.

"I know the Leviathans want to be more active in the Project," Tal'mari sighed, "but I don't want to risk sending a sentient ship into a war-zone, especially given their record."

In reality Oreska wanted to keep Taryn Herd as far from conflict as possible.

The Leviathans groups was not like most of their cousins who wandered the space of the Hegemony, where most Leviathan herds were nomads, composed of an ever interchanging number of breeding pairs, juveniles and elders.

The Taryn were better known as the Misfit Herd.

During the Third Hegemony-Pryian War the Leviathan breeding grounds at _Cassopiena Anterra_ had come under threat. With the closest Space Guard fleet over ten jumps away and facing down a fleet eleven hundred strong, the Leviathan Elder Herd had diligently but reluctantly ordered the five hundred member of Lant'n Herd to abandon the breeding ground and evacuate immediately.

_Cassopiena Anterra_ was a Leviathan designated procreation system, only breeding pairs, parents with new-born children, elderly midwifes and expecting mothers. No weapons or military presence was allowed inside its confines, as to avoid any chance of harming the younglings. They were no match for an approaching Pyrian fleet and no matter if they were, they were unwilling to risk the lives of so many innocent newborns.

Their only option was to run.

But that would also mean leaving ninety pregnant Leviathan mothers incapable of jumping to their deaths.

It was harsh but it was the height of the war, the Hegemony had lost dozens of its fleets holding the line and the Elders knew the herds moved as fast as their slowest members. More lives would be lost trying to save the mothers and in a very controversial decree order the herds to abandon them.

Many did not agree, the majority obeyed... a few rebelled.

Led by the young gunboat _Taryn,_ a group of juvenile Leviathans held back the approaching Pryian armada while the mothers were evacuated.

Eighty seven Leviathans joined _Taryn_, twenty survived at the cost of two hundred Pryian _Torchships_.

But it was long enough and a great enough sacrifice that a Hegemony rescue fleet from nearby _Bandon Omega_ could arrive and extract the distressed females in time.

_Taryn_ was hailed as a hero... but had to be punished for his insubordination.

To disobey an Elder was to disown all Leviathans. After the war the Leviathan Elder Herd and all other Herds shunned the Taryn Herd and all those that associated with them. Their actions however had attracted a large number of younger generation Leviathans, many of which did not support the Elder's belief of total pacifism.

While not advocated of militaristic ideals or aggressive behavior they believed that the '_run and only fight when cornered_' mentality of their race was too dangerous.

In only a short while the Taryn herd had blossomed to over two hundred ships and was starting to exert their resentment of exile on the Elders. Another decade, maybe even less, and civil war would have erupted between the herds.

Outside intervention was needed.

The Hegemony decided it was best to nurture youngsters with kindness and respect then feeding their resent of their seniors with further scorn and contempt.

While the Elder Herd had been resistant, their ways had been set in stone for thousands of cycles, they had agreed the youngsters could not be left alone, their responsibility needed to be nurtured in respectable manner.

Hence why Tal'mari had been reluctant but obligated to hand over four-hundred cubic light-cycles to the Leviathans to use as a new breeding ground.

"Ma'am, their Matriarch is being very insistent about being involved," Seskito countered. "We are giving them a third of this stellar cluster as a breeding ground. I think that if there's a sentient species here they want to make nice now before the territorial disputes start later."

"Fine," she conceded after a thought. "They're allowed two transport class Leviathans and one gunboat. I trust _Taryn_ but they did start as a breakaway group of Lantn Herd and the last thing we need is rebellious teenage biomechaniod ships having to prove something."

"I will transmit the reply to their matriarch," Hauser's attaché accepted.

"Good. So are we the least bit concerned about how several billion humans managed to get all the way to a galactic stellar cluster without anyone noticing?" the Empress leaned over the brim of her '_U_' shaped desk. "Surely one of the annual censuses would have noticed that big of a drop. Theories?"

"There are rumors and talk floating around the omni-nets," Seskito announced, clicking his personal data-flexi and forwarding several links to the Empress's personal network, "that these Twelve Colonies have been in the Large Magellanic Cloud for a very long time… enough to have several thousand cycles of recorded history. The Federation may honestly not have known they were there."

"But their making it damn well-known they don't want anyone to remove them," Hauser grumbled.

He may have been human but he was born on the independent Germanic colony of _Berlin Zwei_, a world on the distant tip of the Orion-arm. His ancestors had wanted some separation from the widespread federalist coalition of several thousand other colony-worlds, to determine themselves. Still a member of the Hegemony, separate from the Federation, Throsten knew what his specie status could get him in the galaxy at large even if he wasn't born among the Solorian empire.

"Humanity was one of the founding members of the Hegemony," Oreska commented firmly. "No one should be surprised that the most powerful member of the empire would move so quickly and thoroughly to protect a previously unknown asset."

"You're not concerned that the Federation could have violated the Colonization Project?" Seskito asked after a second.

"It's unlikely these Colonials are an illegal settlement," she waved off such a thought like it was impossible, "not with this much history built up. Even then I highly doubt this would be a Federation sanction settlement. Humans are brash and to the point but it be biting themselves in the end if they tried to go the easy way round. They have too much invested in this empire to throw it all away for a few frontier worlds."

"What about outside backing?" Hauser proposed another theory. "I know several of the mega-corporations were a little put off when we limited economic investment into the region."

"How many corporations do you know of that are entirely human run?" Seskito commented back with a arch of his scaly ebrow. "The human race hasn't been exclusively human since the early days of the Solorian Federation. To see no genetic engineering, no modern technology, no artificial intelligences or holographic technology. That's just too out of place to go unnoticed."

"Maybe a religious backer," Oreska wondered as well, "or a genetic purity group, like the ones on some of the isolationist worlds?"

"Even more unlikely," this time it was Hauser who shot down that idea. "The isolationist worlds are weird and backwards but mind you to get that isolation they have to charter colony ships from us or another backer… and none of them have enough people to terraform and then settle fifty-billion or so people into a previously unknown region of space."

"This has mystery written all over it," the Empress drummed her fingers on the desk in announce. "In the meantime what in the Mother Goddess' name are these Cylons thinking trying to pull genocide against their creators?"

"We don't know," the Grand Fleet Lord offered honestly. "The military command in the Magellanic Cloud is taking point in this matter."

"Is having the military engage the second unknown power we've encountered in this region in under a week a good idea?" Oreska asked.

"They Cylon's ideology for this genocide is deeply rooted in religious teachings that are apparently monotheistic but still obscure to us," Seskito commented lightly. "Their God seems to have ordained them for this mass murder."

"Commander," she leaned over the desk with a perk in her eyebrow to stare at the young Cardassian, "do you believe a military operation against the Cylon Imperium, with their possible and most likely conquest by the Hegemony, would result in them caving to our wishes and finally responding diplomatically?

The room was deafly quiet for a second, as the former actions of how the young Seskito's ancestors entered into the empire.

The Cardassian Union had once been one of the major power players back before the Hegemony had been founded... before the _Second Cardassian-Federation War_. When the Union had annexed the independent worlds of _Trill, Betazed, Hala_ and _Bajor_ in 2,480 C.E., the neighboring Chichin Empire and Solorian Federation had protested such military actions but were distracted with the continued raids of the Kaldera Alliance and aggressive buildup between the Hiigaran and Tiadan which would soon escalate into another massive and almost annual war between the long rivals. But a cycle later, when a Union fleet crossed the Federation border near the colonies of _Hempstead_ and _Seattle _with the intent of taking the formerly coveted worlds, action had to be taken.

Five cycles of fighting eventually lead to the complete disillusion of the Cardassian Union after an allied Breen-Chichin-Than-Federation force had waged total war across their territory. It was only under threat of their entire homeworld being bombarded from orbit that had forced the military leadership to finally cave to total surrender.

Forever the Union would remain as a demilitarized region, governed under a foreign military control, as a near dependent vassal state to the Federation. Even when the Hegemony was formed, it took over a thousand cycles before they were allowed to re-establish self-government… under very watchful eyes.

"No," the man finally answered. "Even from our preliminary reports the Cylons would react with violence whether we pursue them with military force or ignoring them with indifference. The time in which this response would come however is unknown, the ultimate results however are already evident. The Colonials signed an armistice with them and made no attempt to encroach on their space for forty cycles before the Cylons launched a massive and indiscriminate attack on them."

"We should consider military action as the only way we can deal with them," Hauser continued. "Once we remove some of their larger guns, they may become more complacent."

"Then let's hope they can listen to reason," Tal'mari nodded. "Or else they're doomed…"

* * *

"They won't negotiate while you're holding hostages," Apollo stated simply, still trying to fight against the shackles his wrists had been clad in.

"I don't want to negotiate," Zarek commented as he studied the stars outside the windows of the_ Astral Queen_ command deck.

"Then, what do you want?" Lee asked a bit uncertainly.

Thomas Zarek was a wild card, he was once a devote believe in the peaceful Citizens for Sagittaron Labor Reform but when their leader was executed he had turned, becoming a brilliant but violently motivated man.

Adama couldn't predict if Zarek would talk to him... or kill him the moment he was within arm's length.

"To be treated like men, not animals," the former prisoner face's a knitted furrow. "Finally have something to bargain with. And now we're gonna talk."

"About what?" Zarek questioned.

"You father," Tom glowered. "That's how you got to be the personal representative of the President, isn't it? Because of your father?"

"Hardly," Adama gave his companion a black look. "I was there during the crisis, in the thick of it with Laura Roslin. She chose me because she trusted me when she had to make the hard decisions. We have our differences, but not when it comes to dealing with terrorists."

"I thought you said you respected me, read my book," Zarek seemed to take the disfavor with a leer.

"That was before you resorted to violence and hostage-taking," Apollo dismissed.

"And it's always better when the oppressed don't fight back, isn't it?" Tom threw back.

Snatching the comm. station microphone, Zarek stared down at his deplored prisoner as he made his announcement, both to him and every radio in distance of his wireless.

"But I have two conditions before I release my captives," he herald. "First, the government which controls our fate is illegal and illegitimate, and it must submit to the will of the people. I demand the immediate resignation of Laura Roslin and her ministers."

Pacing the floor he thought for just a moment before continuing.

"Second," he exclaimed, "I demand free and open elections to choose a new leadership and a new government that represents all of the people. These demands are made not for me or for the former slaves held on this ship, but for you, the people, survivors of the holocaust and the children of humanity's future… this is the first day of the new era... "

* * *

Space warped and tore in a violent display of light and energy, the moment it burst forth into the universe, the power collapsed in on itself. Teetering in its place a cargo ship righted itself back into normal space. Painted green like summer grass and traced with racing lines of yellow sunlight, the _Providence_-class heavy hauler burst towards the far off blue ball.

"Engineering crew reports drive coils are functioning within normal parameters," copilot Wanda Herrera reported as she relayed the message to her commanding officer, "we are on final glide into _Caprica_ airspace."

"Throttle back on the main engines," Captain Paso Luken ordered from beside her, "and bring us into linear alignment with the local solar plane."

"Throttling back," Wanda confirmed as she rotated their ship into alignment with _Caprica's_ equator, "main engines are now at six thousand kpm. We have entered communications range of the Space Guard Emergency Aid Fleets."

"This is commercial transport _Verbontene Liebe_," Luken announced into his ear-pod, his voice carrying the several million kilometers to the orbiting fleets of allied Colonial and Space Guard ships surrounding _Caprica_, "requesting permission to enter _Caprican_ orbit on heading six nine by lateral vector eight two, three light minutes out."

"_Verbontene Liebe_,_ this is Flight Control Officer Fernando Hugo of the HSS Geometry of Shadows_," a voice faintly tainted by a Spanish drawl came in over the loudspeakers of the cockpit. "_You are cleared for final approach on heading... scratch my last Liebe... reroute flight path on longitude vector nine four one and wait for further instructions._"

"Captain," Wanda interjected before Paso had a chance to question the sudden change in their flight plans, "I have a general broadband communication in the clear."

"Put it on loudspeakers," Luken accepted as a crackle of static gave way to the voice of an unknown man in mid-sentence.

"... _repeat, Fleet Command has declared a hostage situation abroad one of the Colonial starships as of one hour ago. All civilian ships in system are advised to begin cycling their FTL coils and program emergency jump coordinates. Other then emergency needs all official communication channels are being forbidden from further use until advised otherwise. This includes but not limited to tachyon, subspace, psychic and pheromone transmissions. All ships are advised not to approach the civilian ship identified as the Astral Queen, any parties violating this order will be arrested and tried under Article 532 of the Proclamations of Sentience... repeat, a hostage situation is now in effect in Caprica orbit_... "

"Sir the protocol states we are to throttle back," Wanda interrupted the message as it continued to loop, "and await further instructions from the local military command."

But the swelling veins in Paso's neck only barely managed to convey the terror, anger and confusion that were rising in the _Verbontene Liebe's_ commanding officer's stomach.

"Patch me over to the _Divided_, now!"

"You're on sir," a startled Wanda confirmed a second later. She knew Captain Luken had a short fuse but the mixture of rage and fear in his voice scared the young woman.

"_Divided Loyalties, this is Captain Paso Luken onboard the Verbontene Liebe_," Paso stated formally and quickly, as if he hesitated for just a second the words would be lost forever. "_I'm carrying several tons of emergency medical supplies for transfer to waiting Picon relief ships. I am requesting the chance to drop my cargo and to vacate this system for my ship's safety under Sub-Section Nine B of the Independent Trader's Guild Rights Act_."

"_I understand Liebe but the ITG Rights Act is superseded by the current situation_," the _Divided_ flight control officer they had just spoken to responded, "_which means you stay in system until advised otherwise. Your flight path is being diverted to make room for an urgent arrival. Command will transmit you a new route in a few minutes and your contract will be compensated for the delay_."

"We are a chartered vessel from the ITG on behalf of the Space Guard relief efforts in this system!" Luken vehemently argued. "Sub-Section Nine-B states 'that if a ITG captain finds a contract places his vessel and crew in the center of undue danger and harm then he may cancel it at anytime, whether delivery is complete or not.' I am being polite and offering to delivery my cargo but I want my rights respected and that means I can leave this system whenever I choice."

It may have sounded official and to the point, to Paso but his voice came out more as a spoil child trying to assert his right to throw a tantrum.

"_Then understand this Liebe_," Flight Control Officer Hugo's voice filled with an equal amount of distain to match Captain Luken's rude tone. "_Under the Article 1,671 of the Proclamation of Sentience your ship will be detained and your crew arrested for attempting to leave the designated boundaries of this solar system. If chose to assert you rights and you resist, Article 1,671 also states deadly force may be enacted to keep you from leaving_."

For a second Luken would have guessed the man was buffing but a hand tap on his shoulder and a finger pointed out the view port by Wanda told him otherwise. Two wings of_ Skin-divers_ and a _Reliant_-class gunboat suddenly broke from the orbiting Space Guard fleets and started angling towards their cargo ship.

Though the _Verbontene Liebe_ was a fast ship those_ Skin-divers _were faster and once they took out their engines, which Luken knew they were going to go for first, that gunboat would easily overpower him. And even those three point defense lasers he sprung for last month at Ptolemy would be of no help.

The Captain had only one option left.

"_Verbontene Liebe _is standing down and awaiting further instructions."

"_Thank you, Liebe_," Hugo countered, though the sarcasm flooded his voice. "_Inbound Sentinel is on an official mission to the Colonial flagship. Once we move a brigadier force into position to flank the vessel we will lift the suspended flight restriction. In the meantime you are to divert your course. Sentinel is already inbound and you are blocking his path_!"

"Sir, inbound ship is rapidly approaching on bearing one one mark two," Wanda confirmed as the sensors detected the rapidly approach vessel, "We are directly inside their landing zone."

"Pull us the hell out then!" Captain Luken roared, taking his frustration out on his co-pilot.

"Main engines to full, aye" she quickly yelled, "bringing us into high orbital holding position."

"_Thank you, Liebe_," Hugo returned, the distain in the loudspeakers a little less present, "your cooperation is appreciated. Please wait for new orders to be issued in fifteen minutes."

"Well that was close," Captain Relbbircsrebu sighed, watching the _Verbontene Liebe_ move off and into their designated flight path.

"Damn ITG is getting a little cushy out here on the frontier if you ask me," Hugo responded to his commanding officer, though quickly realizing his words may have been out of line and adding a 'Sir' at the end.

"Freedom of speech is a founding principle of the Hegemony, son," Relbbircsrebu waved the officer's embarrassing remark off as he moved back towards the interior of the command deck. "As long as it doesn't get someone killed... Article 121 of the Proclamation of Sentience."

* * *

Sighing Laura laid back into her chair, tapping her fingers on the conference table with mild annoyance. In an hour she was suppose to meet with the two leaders of the Cylons with the Space Guard Admiral to mediate, now she was being told the ban of her predecessor's term had just reappeared, in control of an entire ship and several thousand dangerous men demanding her resignation.

"We jammed his transmissions," Commander Adama reported, staring down at the numerous outlines and blue prints of the Astral Queen spread over the table's surface. "He won't be preaching any longer."

"A little bit late for that," Roslin exhaled, "every ship in the fleet and most of _Caprica_ heard that broadcast. How many recordings of those transmissions are now being sent across the Colonies? We're having food, fuel, even water riots on every Colony. This is only going to fan the flames."

"It doesn't matter," Adama soughed.

"It does matter," the President yearned to just punch something. "He's trying to bring down the government."

"No one's going to take it seriously," the soured man groaned, pulling the round glasses perched on his nose and running a worn hand over his chin.

"You have something to learn when it comes to public opinion, Commander," Laura eye's twinkled. "Tom Zarek is a name with weight, a very sympathetic figure, a legend, almost. Twenty years in prison, over a matter of principle."

"He's a criminal and a terrorist," Adama grumbled, "people aren't gonna give him frakking credence."

"Don't be so sure, Commander," Laura whimpered. "Rebellions are contagious. People are already rioting over the fuel crisis. We can't afford to destabilize this government right now."

"I agree," the man gestured.

Then Roslin asked the question hanging in the air. "When are you going in?"

"I assumed you were gonna talk to him first?" Bill stared at her.

"We don't negotiate with terrorists," Laura cued. "What he wants, I can't give him."

"We're not ready yet," Adama surmised. "Talking to Zarek gives us a little more time."

"That's what he wants," she yelled, "he want legitimacy. He wants to be recognized. He wants his crimes validated. I watched President Adar offer him a full pardon if he'd apologize and give up violence as a means of political change. He refused. No commitments, no deals."

"Maybe we can offer a compromise?" both turned to see a young woman step through the hatch. "Commander Adama, President Roslin. I am Novice Jeanette Sienna of the Centralized Crisis Organization."

"I'm sorry, sir," a flustered Tigh followed a second later. "I tried to stop her but she was insistent."

"I remember you," Laura noted. "You're leading the rescue efforts on behalf of the Hegemony."

Clothed in just a fine green wrap, the woman was barely to Adama's shoulders, yet somehow seemed to extrude confidence and control in her somewhat revealing outfit.

"Yes but I am also an expert negotiating," she cross the room, studying and observing her companions with mild detachment. "Especially well versed with clients and parties dealing with rebellious fractions and violence."

"And how do you suggest someone of your stature could convince a man like Zarek," Tigh tried to hide his laugh under a well placed cough. "I don't know how you intend to get Zarek to back down without using some of your more special assets."

"Colonel!" Laura clamored up from her seat expecting the worse. Instead Jeanette laughed.

"Who said my assets would not be used?" Sienna smiled. "Novices are trained in all forms of verbal, pheromone and... psychical negotiations."

"You really are a prostitute!" Tigh could barely hide his shock.

"If our role requires the need for such," the Novice shrugged, "then yes, a Novice is trained in many forms of sexual conduct. But we also go beyond that. We work both on an emotional, psychological, and a psychical level..."

Slowly young woman had worked her way around the table, her hips sashaying in just the right motion that her tight green garment pulled at all the right points. Rising a hand up, she lightly grazed her smooth fingers over the man's temple and appraised him with delicious eyes.

Tigh was visibly attracted to her, even going so far as to lean in to her touch... until the knife Sienna had hidden up her sleeve was pressed to the Colonel's neck.

"We are also well trained in the defensive arts," Jeanette pressed the implement into Saul's neck for a point, before withdrawing it back into her sleeve. "To protect against our more '_forthright_' clients, of course."

Tigh was shaken but impressed enough to give the woman her space.

"What is your plan then Novice?" Adama had to ask where this was head.

"Are these the blueprints for the _Astral Queen_," she nodded to the charts and papers lying on the table top. When the Commander bowed his head she continued. "Three assault teams, Alpha, Bravo, Constellation. We jam their sensors, two _Raptors_ cut through the hull in the engineering sections. They'll believe were trying to take their engines offline to eliminate them as a threat. Once they begin to send every able body to counter that, without being seen, another _Raptor_ will cut into the forward bow. Once we're inside, Alpha takes–"

"What's this '_we_' crap?" Saul interrupted.

"I'm going, sir," Jeanette smiled.

"Like hell!" the Colonel spat.

"Need another demonstration of my skills?" When Tigh clammed up at the Novice's question, she continued on. "Most of your personnel are in rescue operations planet-side. How many marines do you have abroad _Galactica_, Commander?"

"Ten on _Galactica_," Adama upheld, "a few could be pulled from the other _Battlestars_."

"Which makes a direct strike inadequate," Sienna asserted. "We send in a Guard military detachment and that could only appear the Hegemony is the one's behind the government pulling the strings. You'll have to send in your own marines but we can offset such small numbers with some special assets."

"What are you suggesting then?" Tigh asked, this time making sure to have a good distance away when he asked.

"Alpha and Bravo are distractions," she detailed on the paper print-outs before her. "They'll pull their people away from their central command where Zarek undoubtedly is located. When his men start to move aft, Constellation will insert themselves here at the ships midpoint and cut them off. Once that's done my detachment will escort me to there, where I will '_speak_' with Mr. Zarek and resolve the situation."

"We only have enough marines for three strike teams," Tigh muttered. "Where you getting this four one from."

"That would be me," another voice interrupted.

Black armor, that was the first thing Laura noticed as the man stepped into the conference room. The only thing that hinted there was someone alive was the propped open visor and a pair of eyes staring back at her.

"Gentlemen and lady," Jeanette established the new arrival and his two human companions that entered, "allow me to introduce Sentinel Omega 561 Beta, Major Rueisnom Atikin and his companions. He will be my escort."

"My associates," the soldier indicated his partners, "Ms. Sue-Shaun and Mr. Anders."

"You're the former captain of the Caprica Buccaneers?" Tigh asked as he recognized the male in the group.

"Yes, sir," Anders nodded.

"You actually expect two former sports heroes and a walking black tin can to take the reins of an entire marine strike team?" Tigh could almost laugh at the idea.

"Someone obviously hasn't seen Sentinels in action," Sue-Shaun grinned at the Colonel.

"Where as I am an expert in negations," Sienna simpered, "Atikin is trained in the highest forms of infiltration, stealth, sabotage and most importantly assassination. A single Sentinel can do more damage then the entire _Battlestar_ fleet combined. His jurisdiction outweighs yours, Admiral Volaska's and most of the other captains in this solar system... combined."

"Wonders never cease," Adama smirked. "All right, you're goin' in. You get a clear shot at Zarek, you take it. I want to control that ship immediately and I want all the hostages alive."

"Yes, sir," the Novice bowed...

* * *

"_Men are but... flesh ... blood_," the voice was crude, fighting against the bleeding lips, the parched tongue, gurgling as red gore began to pool at the back of its pallet. "_They know... their doom, but not the hour.._."

From the other side of the brig, Cain watched with absolute horror at the mess on the floor before her.

A broken man, fingers twisted and broken, bruises painting the canvas of his face, eyes nearly swollen shut... it was hard to image a short while ago this person was a trusted Colonial Colonel.

"Don't think of them as people," Thorne noted beside her, wiping a rag over his hands as he tried to work the last of his victim's blood from his hands. "It's easier to think of them as pets. When people talk its normal. When your dog starts talking to you, you freak the hell out."

"You were only got to scare him," the Admiral shot him a dirty look.

"You told me to use shame and degradation," the officer shrugged as if it meant nothing that he hand just beaten someone into near-comatose insanity. "Pain is scary but it removes it's inhibition to lie to me if it already knows what I'll do to it if it does."

"And have you gleamed anything from the prisoner?" Helena had to ask.

"No," Alastair paid her dirty look no real heed. 'But he keeps referring to God."

"Which God?" she inquired.

"Not which god," the interrogator explained. "Just God... these frakkers believe in just one supreme being. Somehow he's got it in his head that he'll be safe as long as he believes in him."

"Like the Soldiers of the One," Cain mumbled under her breath.

"The who?" Thorne however had caught her comment.

"Terrorist group on _Caprica_ a few decades before the first Cylon War," Helena explained as she dragged her inner mind for what little she remembered. "They suicide bombed a few civilian targets but fell into obscurity when the war began. One of the major beliefs was in a monotheistic religion to drive out the 'many gods' and fight corruption in Colonial society."

"And forty-years later I can see they succeeded so well," Alastair smirked.

"The original creators of the Cylons, Daniel Graystone," she continued to speculate out loud, "his daughter was killed in one of the attacks by the Soldiers of One on the Caprica City Lev. If I remember the scandal, it was said that she could have even been a part of the disaster. Maybe Graystone's daughters beliefs were also his own... and translated to the Cylons."

"Can't know for sure," her companion grumbled at this waste of time.

"Then find out for sure..."

* * *

Vonaka was trying to press a pair of fingers into his temple as another bout of screaming began.

"_I don't care if you granted her asylum_," the Colonial officer bellowed. "_That thing is a soldier in an enemy power and has valuable information that can be used in the war against them. I want her on my ship so we can properly interrogate her_."

"Colonel Sears," Volaska tried again to calm his worries, "I don't think you understand the definition of asylum. Miss Six is under our care and protection so no threats you throw at me are going sway me."

"_I will take this concern to the President," the man yelled, "and make her see reason in your flawed logic_."

"You will appreciate that I have already taken that under advisement," Vonaka added, "she has agreed to give us leeway in this case as long as Six remains on our vessel. I believe the young woman will be more than happy to oblige that request."

"_We'll see about that_!"

Not bothering to even say goodbye Sears cut the channel, leaving a fuming Vonaka to deal with the aftermath.

"_What a rude man_," Alli muttered as she projected beside him.

"On Wvonar," Volaska groaned, "it was customary to ritually execute our elders when they reached a certain age or level of annoyance. Sometimes I wish for the old ways."

"_Don't we all_," Alli nodded. "_But if I understand your peoples customs and cultural mannerisms, you should have been removed in such a fashion four-cycles ago. This fleet would suffer a serious lost if you were not here to lead it._"

"Thank you, Alli," Vonaka grinned, regarding the person that had almost prompted a major diplomatic incident. "How is our guest?"

"_She is alright_," she brought up a basic medical scan depicting the female Cylon's state. "_She suffered a minor concussion and some bruised lower ribs. She is set to be released in a few hours_."

"Good, I want to debrief her the moment she is cleared," Volaska said, "Also monitor her for any internal communication implants. I don't want her putting the wool over our eyes."

"_Understood_," Alli accepted.

"Oh and Alli," Vonaka said just before the AI had a chance to blink out to her other duties, "stop bringing home the local strays. Now what is the word on the hostage situation... "

* * *

"Who voted for Laura Roslin? You?" Zarek commented, pacing the deck plates before Apollo. "Did you vote for her?"

"She was sworn in," Lee express, "under the law... "

"The answer is no one voted for her. No one!" Tom cried out. "And yet she's making decisions for all of us, deciding who lives and who dies. Is that democracy? Is that a free society?"

"What is it you want from me?" Apollo shouted. "You want me to say she shouldn't be President? We need a government. We need rules. We need a leader."

"We need to be free men and women," Zarek yelled. "If we're not free, then we're no different than Cylons! They call you 'Apollo'."

"It's my call sign," Lee howled.

"Apollo's one of the gods," Zarek grinned from ear to ear, "a Lord of Kobol. You must be a very special man to be called a god."

"It's just a stupid nickname!" Apollo expounded.

"Son of Zeus. Good with a bow, god of the hunt... and also a god of healing. Now, a god can reconcile those two opposing forces. But a mortal has to pick one side or the other. Have you picked a side, Apollo?"

"That's what this is, isn't it? You don't want to change the world, to bring down the government. All Tom Zarek want's is someone to preach too, someone to listen to. All you are is some little kid, wanting to be right, to be validated... "

* * *

"Final casualty report lists seventy eight-dead, one hundred twelve injured. Twelve _Vipers_, three _Raptors _destroyed, six badly damaged," Kendra rattled off as she grasped the most recent report from the deck. "Chief Garner says we don't have enough parts to repair them all."

"We started with a crew of 2,456," Helena muttered as she continued to play with the switch blade in her hands. "We're already down to a 1,655 souls. It's a rather high price for a tactically insignificant victory."

"I wouldn't say it's insignificant!" Gina protested from the other side of the wardrobe room, "We crippled the Cylon jump network for this entire region, which could take them months to redeploy, while we on the other-hand get closer to the Colonies with fewer uninvited guests. I'd say we've put the enemy on notice. The price we paid is my fault."

"How do you figure that?" Cain asked, a bit startled by this sudden revelation.

"If I had known who the inside agent was from the start," Gina noted quietly, "I could have caught him before he allowed the Cylons to board us."

"No, this battle would have been far worse without you," Helena waved off, "You had a chance to run, as did I. We both decided to stay, to fight. We both have to live with the consequences but neither of us did anything wrong."

It was true however further confessions and realizations were put on hold as the door chimed.

"Enter," Cain yelled.

The doors to the room slide back to reveal Lieutenant Alastair Thorne still a bit disheveled and bruised but finally free of sickbay. An older man, bald and graying just at the downswing of his life, he had proven himself that no matter the age, a soldier could still do his duty and beyond.

"Ah, Lieutenant Thorne," Helena noted as the man entered. "At ease."

"Thank you ma'am," the officer

"As I understand you were very heroic during the recent battle," Cain moved to commend the officer, "far more then I would have thought any member of my crew was capable of. If it weren't for your quick thinking more fifty crewmen would be dead right now-"

Helena Cain rarely praised her officers.

She expected them to do their duty to the letter and no think for anything more. But when one went above and beyond the call of duty, to make her proud to make them her commanding officer then she would be damned if she was going to not reward them.

However as she looked up she found the young man she was showering with praise didn't have the least bit of interest in her.

It was all directed towards Gina and from the look on Thorne's face none of it was good.

"Mr. Thorne," Helena's voice raised to a noticeable yell to gain back the man's attention, "is there a problem."

Gulping down his fear of his commanding officer Alastair could feel the hatred bubbling up inside of him for that creature leaning against the far wall of the room, like she owned the place.

"I do not feel comfortable with it in the room," he admitted between gritted teeth, trying to keep his rage under control.

Understanding where the anger was coming from, Helena could sympathize with the man. They had all lost something to the Cylons but now with one standing in the room it had to be just too much for the man to deal with.

Cain however was not going to have prejudice affecting her crew and especially not the woman she loved.

"I understand your sentiments towards the Cylons and what they did to our worlds," Helena admitted before locking eyes with her lover, "But Miss Inviere is not a Cylon, she is a member of this crew."

Lieutenant Thorne managed to pull his temper under control for a few seconds longer before returning his steely gaze to his Admiral.

"You wanted me to do something for you?" he asked.

"Miss Inviere," Kendra now took over the conversation, "has several Cylon designs she would like to start applying to this ship. Cylon FTL has a far more accurate range then our own. While it would require an entire regiment engineers at _Scorpion_ to install a proper jump drive, Gina hopes that tweaking the current design could shave weeks off our trip and cut our fuel consumption in half. Chief Garner is busy for the time being and you are the only member of the crew with training in Superstring Theory."

"It's not wise to have it being loss on the ship," again Alastair's eyes bore back into Gina who matched his glare with one of her own. "And I don't like her modifying our ship or having access to its critical systems."

"Then you should feel even less comfortable," Helena interrupted, her voice growing cold and unemotional as she now stared intently at the Lieutenant, "when you realize this isn't '_our_' ship, this is my ship. Understood?"

"Crystal," Alastair nodded.

Any further exchange better the four ended as the sound of Colonel Fisk's voice echoed into the cabin.

"_Admiral Cain to CIC. Admiral Cain to CIC... _"

* * *

The line chirped as Zarek maneuvered himself around to the communication console.

"Zeus is calling," he grinned, pulling the microphone from its cradle and pressing it to his ear. "Commander Adama, Tom Zarek. How can I help you?"

"First," the rough voice asked without even bothering with the formalities of a greeting, "I wanna make sure that my people are unharmed."

Handing the device over, Lee quickly grasped the speaker and moved it to his head.

"Uh, this is Apollo," he confirmed. "I'm fine, so are the others. They're located on the lower-"

The appliance was pulled from his ear before the chance to even respond came to him.

"That's enough, thank you," Zarek smiled. "Now Commander... "

"I'm glad to hear that no one's been hurt," Adama conjecture. "That would have tragic consequences."

"How long until you storm the ship?" Tom abruptly asked.

"I'm hoping that won't be necessary," the Commander implied. "I think that you and I can come up with some kind of understanding. This is not the only crisis that I'm dealing with. The fuel and food shortage affects the Colonies."

"Your men are on their way," Zarek grinned, "even as we speak."

"There's still time to work this out," Adama appealed.

"Have the President step down and call for elections," the man continued to press.

"That's not gonna happen," Commander Adama argued.

"Then I look forward to meeting your men," Zarek embraced before slipping the comm. device back into its cradle.

"They were willing to talk!" Apollo shouted. "Wait... you want them to storm the ship!"

* * *

Hissing, the air took a second to establish itself in the docking umbilical before the _Raptor_ was safely pressed against the hull of the _Astral_ _Queen_.

"Soft seal pressurized," the Sentinel confirmed the moment his personal armor reported atmosphere was present in the short, round tube.

"Keep your eyes open," Sienna ordered, cocking her plasma pistol and descending downward.

"That's it, isn't it?" Apollo didn't even bother to hid his final contempt. "You don't want elections, you don't want your freedom. You want a bloodbath."

"You don't understand," Tom grumbled.

"Tom Zarek's been out of the headlines," Lee let the venom drip from his lips as he cursed the mans name, "out of the news, forgotten for twenty-years as he rots in a cell. And now he's got a chance to go out in a blaze of glory. And he's gonna take it."

The prisoner hit the floor before he even registered the pain in the back of his head, the dark armored marine rushing to check the no one had heard the man's take down.

"Alpha One," Sergeant Jill Hadrian whispered into his radio, "we're in."

"Roger that," Sienna confirmed. "You are clear to launch your attack."

"Understood," the woman accepted before she motioned to the five men behind her.

Moving like air on sand, they were silent. The catwalk didn't creek under their boots, their gear made no noise, they were the ultimate definition of stealth.

The Colonial Marine Corps were the ground division branch for the Colonial Military. From ground combat to security, they were trained in every form of duty from guarding a superior officer to launching themselves into a battle armed to the teeth but ready to fight with their fists.

_Galactica_ originally had forty marines, one of the few groups aboard that weren't considered non-essential and shipped off the moment the ship's decommissioning was confirmed. More then half had been shipped planet-side to help with rescue operations, while the remaining twenty had to pick up the slack of guard over the CIC, brig and other critical areas of the ship. It was heavy work but at least they got out occasionally... even if you did consider storming a hijacked civilian ship a true excursion.

Taking aim, Hadrian lined up her shot, made sure everything in the sight matched up... and then opened fire.

The men only registered a dull splat before one of their companions hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Mayhem ensued...

* * *

"Once Roslin uses Adama 's soldiers to massacre the people o n this ship," Zarek described with mild glee, "prisoners and hostages alike, people in the fleet will never, never forgive them. The entire government will collapse."

"You've been saying how everything you're doing is for freedom," Lee vindicated, "but the truth is, it's all about Tom Zarek and his personal death wish."

Zarek leered at him, the smile on his lips suddenly turning to a snarl.

He opened his mouth to shout, to continue another rank when suddenly one of his comrades bolted into the room.  
"Tom, something's up!" he shouted.

But the immediate shot of a stun pulse in the back ended any chance for further explanation. He spasmed for a moment and then went limp with a crashing bang on the deck.

Tom quickly drew his weapon, a pistol he had 'releaved' from Apollo. Cocking the hammer back he took aim... before a bolt of superheated plasma knocked it from his hand.

He screamed in pain as the weapon fell away, leaving his burned skin to wail from its departure.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Zarek," Sienna grinned as she step through the doorway, flanked close behind by an armed Sentinel and two Colonials. "I didn't have a meeting scheduled but I think you'll want to pencil me in."

"Who the frak are you!" Tom yelped, still clutching his scorched hand.

"Novice Jeanette Sienna," the woman grinned as she approached him, "I'm here to negotiate the terms of your surrender."

"Like frak!" Zarek rioted. "Roslin is a despot... a tyrant. She's not using our own soldiers to kill the innocent... she's hiring alien lackys to do her dirty work."

"You don't really care do you," Jeanette smirked. "Life is hard, terrible, savage... and then you die. There is no chance to escape death, only to survive it. You are trying to survive, to make this life a better one before you enter the afterlife."

"You don't know anything about me!" Tom was none to lenient to her assertion.

"I do, more then you'd like," Sienna smile was enticing and seductive, yet scary at what was hidden behind, like a viper before it struck. "You lost someone didn't you? Someone who worked very hard to make life better for others but failed."

The daggers sent her way was a clear sign she had struck a nerve.

"They couldn't succeed because they played fair," she continued, "but those you were up against didn't. When they died... because only death and revenge can fuel this rage... you decided that since corruption would not play by the rules of society, neither would you."

"My mother," Tom eyes suddenly lost focus. "She worked herself to the bone and for what? To be denied, harassed, turned away from medical care because she refused to be a good little worker and do her job. She died and the other Colonies just said good riddance."

"I've seen it before," Jeanette whispered. "She was your mentor, the one you worshipped. Her perceived failure left you scarred... looking for a way to vindicate her way of thinking... and joining her in death as well."

"How 'bout it, Tom?" Apollo huffed. "You still have a death wish? You ready to leave this world, right here, right now?"

"Yes!" Zarek grimly beamed.

"He's lying," Sienna spat. "He's as terrified as dying now as he was with his mother."

"Too bad," Lee sighed. "Because this is what you're gonna do. You're gonna tell your men to help us get that fuel off the moon. They're gonna work for their points, and they're gonna earn their freedom, and then... then... you're gonna get your elections."

To say Tom Zarek was astonished was an understatement.

"What?" he stammered.

"'Cause you're right, Tom," Apollo scowled. "You were right about democracy and consent of the people. I believe in those things and we're gonna have 'em. And you can have 'em too. Or you can have this bullet. Your call."

"How do I know your father and the President will honor your word?" Zarek frowned.

"You don't," Lee conceded. "You let the rest of the hostages go, we'll leave this ship in your hands. They try and come after you, you can still have your last stand. It's your choice."

"It's a victory," the Novice nodded. "Not a great one, but something even a mother can be proud of."

The wait took forever; linger in the air with a bad taste that filled Adama's mouth with a foul taste.

"All right, all right," Zarek nodded. "You have a deal."

Her lips were parched, the cracked pink sink burned as she tried to fight to lick them, for some relief.

* * *

Far away in deep space a fleet _Basestars_ drifted aimlessly, keeping a tight orbit around the two _Resurrection Ships_ at the heart of their grouping, as they plowed onward into the unceasing star-scape. A few day ago they had been the vanguard of a holy crusade, now they were retreating like dogs with their tails between their legs.

"We can confirm the total destruction of the Colonial's tylium moon," Four stated the convened leaders of the fleet's seven main models. "But our loses among the distraction forces was near total... one hundred three _Basestars_ gone."

"It was a tactical victory," Eight responded. "We can replace most of the ships lost but the Colonials are doomed without any fuel for their ships."

"Doomed?" Natalie almost exploded in rage. "We lost almost four entire fleets just to destroy a planet. What is stopping those aliens from shipping in tylium from God knows where. We've been planning this mission for over two decades, more resources then you're pretty little head could compute were used up, our entire infrastructure devoted to this holy task. God would weep if he knew how many of our brothers and sisters died for a '_tactical victory_'."

"Those words are blasphemy," Three scolded her. "God would never turn on us so I would watch your tongue... unless you want to get yourself boxed.

"She's right, my dear," Cavil added. "Our viral programs failed, our ships were fed inferior orders, the entire undercover network fell apart and our forces overwhelmed by those alien mongrels. This was our Plan B if the attack failed, remove the Colonial's life blood and their nation would collapse."

"He is testing us," Five surmised from his end of the table. "We have fallen and had to prove we could rise again."

But it was Four's comment that got all their attention.

"Maybe then he has rewarded us."

"What are you talking about?" Three asked.

"While the undercover network was destroyed," the model explained as Four frantically manipulated his liquid data-fed, "I do have enough basic information left to reconstruct some of the files. Most are too corrupted but if I can just… got it."

"You have the network back?" Eight shouted in surprise, wondering how he had managed to work such a miracle.

"No," Four shock his head, crushing the collective Cylon's hope, "but I managed to bring a fraction it back online... barely a tenth of the original personas. But it will let us track them, we just can't activate any of their personalities remotely."

"What about directly?" Eight pushed on for a possible idea.

"Yeah," Four nodded though not in earnest, "if one of our spies with an active persona could get in contact with others, he could organize a resistance or guerrilla movement."

"Which persona's are online? Natalie inquired.

"We had over seven-hundred spies online when the system class," Four reported as he read off the information. "I've got sixty-three personas we can track. Only eight are actives, all the rest are inactive."

"Are any in position to cause damage?" Cavil asked.

"Two Sixes are on _Caprica_," Three declared, "a Three on _Picon_ and a One on _Virgon_, none of which are in usable positions. Four active personalities are showing up in Caprican orbit... they're on a _Battlestar_... a One, a Six, a Five and a Two... plus at least two inactives. One of the inactives is also a military officer abroad the ship."

"What position of the inactive" Five asked.

"An Eight stationed on the _Battlestar Galactica_," Four responded as he read the dossier that appeared on his station, "Lieutenant Sharon Valarie... mission was listed as classified."

"Classified?" Three remembered. "There is no such thing as classified among the Cylon."

"But there is need to know," Cavil retorted as all heads turned towards him.

"What are you playing at?" Natalie asked dangerously.

"None of your business," the model One shot back.

"Cavil, if you think-"

"Its classified," the man shouted her down before she could continue. "Leave it at that. I know the One in charge of that cell, he'll activate a standard sabotage and espionage program with the Eight. Until then she is off-limits..."

* * *

"Gods... " Roslin couldn't believe it as she stalked the length of her officer on _Colonial One._ "I don't believe this."

"It's unacceptable," Commander Adama cursed right beside her.

"It's done," Lee shrugged as he lounged back in his chair, enjoying the cold leather against his chaffed and bruised wrists. "Prisoners have full control of the _Astral Queen_. We evac'ed all the guards and support personnel. It's their ship."

"They're a threat to the Colonies themselves," Adama could barely hide his contempt for the situation. "What if they intend to attack any other ship or wage a one-ship war on the Cylons."

"They've been disarmed," Apollo shrugged. "The ship itself has no weapons."

"The ship itself is a weapon!" the Commander bellowed.

"They're totally dependent on us," Novice Sienna spoke up beside him, "for food, fuel, and they've agreed to organize the workforce for the fuel detail at _Gamoray_. They'll ship out with the mining fleet in two days and Zarek will honor his part in the deal."

"He won't be back until it's time for the people to go the polls," Lee tried to add, as if it would lighten the situation.

"You've committed me to holding elections within the year," Laura mumbled as she moved behind her oak desk to stare down at the pair.

"Madam President, with respect," Lee spoke up. "You're serving out the remainder of President Adar's term. When that term is up in seven months, the law says there's an election. I only committed you to obeying the law."

"You are not authorized to make any deal... " Laura threatened.

"Madam President," Jeanette interjected herself into the exchange. "The Hegemony will continue to support our alliance with the Colonial people as long as they maintain a democratic and civil government over their people. All Mr. Adama has done is ensure your laws are upheld... while our continued friendship is not contingent on how you handle the internal workings of your government... it is preferred."

"We swore an oath... " Apollo spoke now, "to defend the Articles of Colonization. The articles say there's an election in seven months. Now, if you're telling me we're throwing out the law, then I'm not a Captain, you're not a Commander and you are not the President. And I don't owe either of you a damned explanation for anything."

For a while it was silence that held the floor. No one spoke, only glares were exchanged.

"He's your son," Laura said as she turned towards Commander Adama.

"He's your adviser," Bill said as he regarded President Roslin.

"An election it is then... "

* * *

The Colonial fleet drifted like lost souls on an open ocean, thousands crammed into fragile tin cans that had been meant for short jaunts between their respective homeworlds, not long range duty. Yet the people continued to make do with what they had.

_Cloud Nine_ and _Eleven_ coasted over the bulk of _Galactica_, the bars and numerous drinking establishments on either ship seeing serious business as many passengers drank away their problems. The majority of the fleet's shuttle service used the two crafts as hubs for intra-fleet transport, hundreds coming and going under the great white domes.

_Colonial_ _One_ glided laid in its berth aboard the _Tripoint_, onboard dozens of civil workers who had days ago had been on a leisurely and educational excursion to _Galactica's_ decommissioning ceremony now found themselves pressed into service establishing the foundation of a new government.

Nearby freighters like the _Prometheus_ and _Gemini_ hauled their loads of goods, one diligently providing its supplies to the surrounding passenger liners and the other calculating a new and growing black market.

Close to them, the _Striker_, an electronic repair ship, docked with the _Daru_ _Mozu_ as the two ships spun together in a weightless dance of a refueling operation.

Even those with the dirty jobs still preformed for the good of the fleet, like the _Demetrius_. A sewage processing ship, she had just tapped off from the _Olympic Carrier_ and was heading off to a rendezvous with its sister ship _Chiron_.

Lying in the bottom of the SIT Alli watched as the _Demetrius_ and the _Chiron_ began to link up, the two holo-ships were like clouds in the sky to her.

Most of the ship's crew was either onboard _Galactica_, the other Guard ships or down below prepping emergency supplies for transfer over to the Colonial refugees. Though she hated to even admit it Sinai was freeing her up from several of her more mundane tasks. She would of course belittle and insult the lower level program every second he was onboard this vessel but she had to admit having a little help was welcomed.

Currently she was performing a multitude of duties, compiling a report on Colonial-Hegemony cultural similarities, building a better infiltration matrix from the downloaded _Basestar's_ main computer in comparison to her experiences inside their own networks and performing a detailed but covert scan of all the Colonial ships to get a better feel for their ship building capabilities.

So far she was impressed by their shipwrights. While Colonial spacecrafts were on par with Earth vessels in the mid 22nd century they were far more versatile and durable. Most of these ships weren't designed for no longer than a week out of port. To press them to the edge of the solar system without a moment's notice was a true testament to their power.

She was so engrossed in studying the super structure configuration of _Galactica's_ flight-pods she almost didn't notice the transmission, emanating from an obscure and disused starboard flight-pod.

It was faint and shifting across the spectrum but the fact that it was actively trying to conceal itself was what intrigued Alli.

Redirecting four of her sensor palates she cycled across the readouts, trying to find who would be sending an encoded broadcast. While it could have easily been a person trying to reach a loved one back on the Colonies, the fact that it was pointed out into the void is what kept Alli pressing...


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Champions of the Grail

**Chapter Fourteen**: Champions for a Grail

**Rating**: PG-13

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Feedback**: Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywriter by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

* * *

_"Great minds can build empires but kind hearts keep them standing..."_

**Sister Samantha Godwin, **_**The Necessity of Mercy**_**, 710th Interstellar Religious Conference Keynote Speaker**

* * *

**Time**: _Forth Month of Sumekt, Twelfth Day, 3021 A.F. Hegemony Calendar / March 24th, 6230 C.E. Terran Calendar / Plus 15-Days from Initial Cylon-Hegemony Contact._

**Location**:_ Battlestar Galactica, Inner Caprica Orbit, Cyrannus Solar System_

* * *

The room smelled of antiseptic and dried urine, something that seemed to have seeped into every deck plate and corner of sickbay. It didn't help that the paper gown she was given left nothing to the imagination and the bed she was atop was as cold as ice.

But that seemed to be a necessity when you were in Doctor Cottle's workplace.

_"_Madam President," she looked to see the white haired medical officer approaching with his companion, a tall, human like creature, covered in feathers and with a pair of impressive and massive wings on his back. Obviously this was the Space Guard medic, Doctor Xianextnucatoital.

"Could you close that curtain, please?" Laura flashed a strained but friendly smile, enough to get Cottle to yank one of the barely adequate curtains around her small examine area. _"_Thank you."

"You are obviously an intelligent, well-educated woman," Cottle pulled a smoke from the pocket of his lab coat, tapping the white cylinder on the back of his hand before popping it into his mouth. "Would you mind explaining to me why you waited five-years in between breast exams?"

"Yes, I would mind," she shot at him a little too sharply. Taking a deep breath she managed to calm the frazzled nerves in her body. "I'm sorry but it's none of your business."

"And now here you are," Cottle groused right back at her, a hint that patient care wasn't one of his favorite duties.

"Yes, here we are..." Roslin glared back, though she stopped as Cottle lit the cigarette in his mouth. "Would you mind?"

"I do, actually," man took a deep breath of smoke, blowing it out his noise as he spoke._ "_But your doctor back on _Caprica_ was right. It's too late to operate, the cancer's too far advanced. All we can do now is try and shrink the tumor with gamma treatments and follow that up with doloxan. Did he explain to you the side effects of doloxan?"

"Hair loss, nausea, muscle degeneration..." she quickly rattled off. "I watched my mother endure two years of doloxan before she died. I would like to explore alternate treatments."

"Prayer?" Cottle sarcastically answered.

"Witty," she mumbled before rolling her eyes up to the towering bird-man. "Doctor Xianextnucatoital, what is your opinion?"

"Cancer has long since been a curable condition among humans since the mid-2080s," the Skorr explained with a surgeon's ease and confidence. "There are three options available to non-genetically modified humans, such as yourself. The first is a biologically re-engineered measles virus, which will attack and destroy the cancerous cells. It's called Krippin Virus. Second to this we can use Selenine, which is made from fossilized lichen found on Earth's second moon of Selene. Finally we can inject you with nanites, tiny machines that not only would be programmed to remove the cancer but repair all internal damage. Nanites will most likely improve your lifespan by an additional four-decades."

"A whole lot of techno-babble in that speech," Cottle grumbled, the burning stick in his mouth creating a wavy line of smoke in the air. "Side-effects?"

"Krippin can cause the adrenal glands to be locked into the '_on_' position," the Hegemony officer offered without pause or hint of concern. "This can result in a rise in body temperature, heart rate and hyperventilation. We can treat that if you do develop side-effects. Two-percent of patients are also allergic to Selenine, causing hallucinations and seemingly prophetic visions but it still works. Nanites are the best bet, they can be controlled and removed at a moment's notice."

"Oh Gods, you're one of those," the Colonial doctor was none too pleased by the implications Xianextnucatoital was implying. "Thinking that machines should replace the same immune system the body gave it."

"If the body can't do it," the alien shrugged at his counterpart, not the least bit concerned, "then we have to fix that problem."

"I'm sorry, Doctor," Roslin knew a fight was coming, best to make her choice now and cut them off in a second, "but I would prefer to stick with Selenine... sounds a little more reasonable. What if it works?"

"Good," Xianextnucatoital nodded without pause. "All the evidence on Selenine is promising. It's been in use among humanity for over four-thousand cycles and so far hasn't failed yet. But we can't screen for the allergies so if you experience any problems, do not hesitate to inform me."

"Thank you," suddenly that '_terminal_' stamp in her chart didn't seem so final anymore.

"You can put your clothes back on now," Cottle nodded as the two medical professionals began to make their exit. "And for what it's worth, I would seriously consider prayer..."

* * *

Space flashed and boiled, fifteen bright stars in the night and then fifteen ships decelerating back into normal space. Five mining ships, six more to haul the ore they were to mine, two refinery ship, the prison ship carrying workers and one mothership standing tall over all of them.

"_Carrier group Sirius_," the _Copernicus Afire_ was the first to break radio silence, as it took the lead at the front of the tiny fleet. "_Jump complete on station, point deacon. Initiate search pattern delta_."

"_Ore flight Bravo, Delta, Wilco, Tango_," the mining ship _Odysseus_ confirmed for itself and its three wing men, the refinery ship _Daru Mozu_ and the transport ship _Prometheus_ and _Harmony_. "_Jump clear_."

"_Ore flight Sierra, Echo, Lima, Nebula_," the _Colonial Mover_-class transport _Adrasteia_ reported along with the mining ships _Vena Capa_ and _Galatea_, along with its sister ship _Aether_. "_Jump clear_."

"_Ore flight Romeo, Victor, Whiskey_," the transport _Southeastern_ announced, the mining ship _Harrak_ and _Boastful_ boast following it close behind. "_Jump clear_."

"_Ore flight Oscar, Kilo, Charlie_," the three Hegemony ships called out as they kept close to their allies. "_Jump status green. Echo initiated_."

"Ore flight Echo launching," Captain Gloria Erna nodded to the pilot before her as the _Vena Capa_ rolled out of formation, and into the sea of endless floating rocks.

The _Gamoray-_system was once a Colonial held territory before the First Cylon War.

At the time it was a joint Caprican-Virgonese mining facility, a lifeline that provided fuel to the two Colonies. But once the Cylons rebelled and the Twelve Colonies united, the closer access to tylium on _Troy_ had meant the _Gamoray_ mines had lost their purpose. Too far out and with traffic lanes that dove right through the most congested areas of space, it took only a short while for the facility to be abandoned.

But as the war progressed the base was converted into the forward headquarters for all Colonial fleet operations outside of Cyrannus. It was one of the darkest days of the war when a Cylon sneak attack managed to catch the station, five-thousand officers and its four Battlestars off-guard, destroying everything in less then an hour.

Since the end of the war and the continued fuel from _Troy_, there had not been much reason to return... other then to bury and mourn the dead.

"ETA to rock-side 20-minutes," XO Tyler Riley announced from his position at the dradis screens. "Beginning mineral sweep now."

The massive chunks of debris roared passed the mining vessel, more than enough to simply roll right over them without so much as losing a few pebbles in the act.

"_Kilo ore flight to Echo ore flight_," the calm, yet almost logically unnerving voice from the _Pride of Kadesh_ made Erna's neck hairs stand on end, as Sub S'jet Rei Nabaal communicated. "_We have whispers in the field. Can you make visual_?"

A glance at Riley gave her only a shake of his head as the screens continued to remain blank besides the dozens of orbiting rocks.

"No joy, ore flight Kilo," Gloria reported as the ship continued to press deeper into the field. "It could just be radiation from the belt but we'll keep the eyes open for you."

For a long minute there was no response as they drifted side to side under full thrust, the distant moon slowly starting to grow in size. _Gamoray IV _was a dying moon, devoid of life and barren in all regards. Much like Troy had fallen, a small scale explosion had shattered an entire hemisphere of the moon but unlike its sister planetoid, had merely left a sizable hole that exposed the rich tylium core.

From that break the _Gamoray_ asteroid belt was formed, a trailing cloud behind the moon that slowly grew as pieces of the planet continued to break off over the years.

"_Ore flight Echo_," again Nabaal's ethereal voice again chirped over the comms, "_ore flight Kilo is seeing active silhouettes in the field, you have company and its coming your way_."

"Still nothing," Riley shook his head. "Whatever their seeing its... wait... what... I've got magnalium, beryllium copper, brass, nickel silver... refined metals... something artificial is on one of the larger asteroids."

"Perform a deep level dradis scan," Erna was quick to order, as the surge of blood and hormones began to heighten her senses.

It took barely few seconds for the sensors to seek out the contacts the _Pride of Kadesh_ was seeing and after a brief moment for the computer to process them for the results to display on the screens.

"_CYLONS_!" Riley gasped as his station began to flash red with dozens... and dozens of dozens of tiny new icons. "The rock's crawling with them."

"All thrusters free," Erna shouted towards the two young civilian pilots pressing their main drive to the maximum. "Begin emergency bank to port! Get us the frak out of here! Crusher, get on the horn and contact the carrier group!"

"This is ore flight Echo to carrier group Sierra," Carlos Crusher was snapping frequencies and controls on his station as he fought to break through the comm static. "We have bullet-heads in the field... repeat bullet-heads in the field! Breaking from the barn and heading home... Sierra respond. Sir, we've entered the radiation halo from several iridium rich asteroids. It's scrambling the signal, they can't hear us."

"Have they spotted us yet?" Erna asked, hoping desperately for some kind of good news so deep into the thick.

"Unknown but..." Riley shrugged as he fought to get a clearer picture from the dradis. But a screaming signal announced his confirmation had come. "Patrol at seven o'clock, coming hard fast! They got us!"

"Spool up the FTL now!" the captain shouted, even as she could see the five silver fighters screaming out from behind one of the approaching asteroids and start to bank towards them with deadly intent.

"We're still inside the belt!" one of the pilots, Peter Beimler she thought his name was, yelled as he tried to push the bulky mining ship out of the way of the approaching _Raiders_. "Radiation is mucking up the fix."

"We have to jump now!" Gloria shouted, gripping the sides of her chair with white knuckled intensity.

"I'm trying!" Beimler roared as he throttled away from the approaching fight. "Patrol is incoming. We're not going to-"

The first missile struck at port, while not a nuclear warhead the explosion was enough to rip three equipment pods clear off. Gloria was thrown to ground, quickly joined by Crusher who screamed in terror as the entire command center was plunged into darkness.

It quickly boiled away as another warhead hit the _Vena Capa's_ bow, shattered the hull and burning off the entire forward portion of the vessel along with the entire command crew. For a brief instance the mining ship was dead in the water, its engines still firing but with no one at the helm the craft began to spiral off into the field.

One more missile... and the _Vena Capa_ along with its crew of 250 miners disappeared into a plum of fire and brunt metal...

* * *

In the dark hours of the night, _Galactica_ was a silent beast, locked into the moorings hastily built like long claws extending from the spinning rings of _Ragnar Anchorage_. Below the night side of _Caprica_ rolled on, thick clouds of fallout obscuring every hint of light or details from the surface... though few cities or town remained with sufficient electricity to have their glowing lights seen from the surface.

Inside her halls were dim, only the night shift officers manned the stations and those were but a few souls.

Three thousand crewmen, most were asleep in their bunks and dreaming in sweet unknowing.

All but one...

She tossed, turned, rolled over and tried to push herself deeper into the sheets but still her sleep was fitful, her dreams chaotic, everything just seemed to be...

Like a switch she sat up like a bolt, threw her covers off and stood.

Without pause or attempt to dress herself, she padded out into the hall in nothing but her night shirt and sweat pants. It was a surprise that she made it all the way across the ship without ever once encountering a single person. The long hours had taken their toll and other then a few holder ons, everyone was anchored to their beds with no intention of leaving.

The door opened before her, as if she was being expected. A plump but withered old man stared back at her with a smile, as if knowing she was going to be here at this exact moment.

"Ah, Eight," One smiled. "I've been waiting for you..."

* * *

"Sir," James Meier turned up from his blinking dradis screen, "radiation is strong but I think there's a communication coming from ore flight Echo. It's almost entirely static but I think... I think we may have lost them."

"What?" Zarek was on his feet instantly, launching himself over the man's shoulder to stare at the same screen his companion had been staring at a moment before.

He expected to see the blinking icon of the _Vena Capa_ snaking her way through the belt, plotting and scanning for the best location to set down mining operations on... but instead it was just the blinking triangles of drifting asteroids.

"Where the frak did they go?" Zarek thought out loud to himself.

"No idea," Meier offered a shrug and a blank look to explain anything more. "The Space Guard ship communicated something to them on a tight band line... then we lost contact as they passed through a radiation halo."

"Could their signal could have been lost in the radiation?" Zarek had to ask the only question he could think of with the information he had at hand.

"No," James offered with a shake of his head. "Radiation would jam communications but it wouldn't make the psychical profile would disappear. The only way for use to lose dradis contact on them would be if the ship cease to exist."

"Or was destroyed," Tom said what was on everyone's mind; just he was brave enough to say out loud.

Any reprieve or understanding that could come another voice was yelling out in the cramped command center.

"Sir!" Yuri Ryo shouted as his own screen began to bark alarms. "Incoming contacts coming from the field."

"Is it the _Vena Capa_?" Zarek asked as he consulted his own dradis readouts.

"No sir," Ryo shook his head so fast Tom would wonder if it would fall off. "Multiple small contacts. They could be Cylon _Raiders_!"

"The Hegemony ship is ordering an immediate retreat!" Meier's added as he rushed to check the communication station he was also in charge of. "New jump coordinates received."

"Start spinning up FTL!" Tom ordered without a pause or concern of the whole situation.

"Its going to take a bit," Yuri explained as he began to work with lightning speed. "We have to let the coils cool or we'll blow this whole bucket of bolts."

"Incoming _Raiders_ on approach vectors five-six-two," Meier's shouted, his screen nearly exploding with contacts swarming out of the asteroid field.

"Evasive action!" Tom shouted, even as the long rectangle of the _Astral Queen_ began to roll to starboard. "We have the armor but no weapons and I'd prefer not to die today."

"Eight-plus contacts coming out of the field," James declared as the entire region seemed to have come alive with activity... Cylon activity. "Make that ninety... one hundred thirty-plus... They're firing!"

Even if Tom had the dradis screen to watch, it didn't take much for him to see the dozens of flashes that signaled the launch of wave after wave of deadly missiles... all snaking their way towards them.

"Incoming warheads," he shouted over the alarms and to keep his footing as the _Astral Queen_ began a violent and steep climb out of the fire fight. "Brace for impact."

"None of the ships will be able to survive any hit of this magnitude!" Ryo nearly shrieked in fear.

The mining ship _Galatea_ was the nearest to the incoming fire, its three thin saucers gave it a tight enough profile that the simple warheads mostly screamed right past her... mostly. One was lucky enough to strike a landing strut on the bow... taking the pylon and a section of the lower hull with it.

She took the hit but it was minor... her sister ship the _Harrak_, however wasn't so fortunate as three warhead hit her bow and severed the entire forward saucer right off the ship. She managed to right herself but without her sensor or navigation array she was stumbling about blind.

But as the wave continued on into fleet, something quickly threw itself into the line of fire.

"What the hell happened?" Zarek shouted.

A moment ago they had taken a hit to port, throwing them all aside like rag dolls as a missile hit the forward hull and suddenly the turbulence ended in an unsettling flash of time.

"It's the Hegemony ship!" Meier's explained in haste. "She's taking the hits for us!"

All eyes turned to the main windows of the view port, where the massive half-moon shaped ship had pushed herself from the center of the fleet to along its flank, using her long body to throw a shield between the unarmed civilians and the approaching Cylon force.

"_This is Sub S'ject Nabaal_," the ghostly voice from the Hiigaran ship sparked over the speakers. "_We will hold the line. Jump! JUMP NOW_!"

"_Harmony_ has jumped..." Meier's rattled off one after another as the dradis contacts began to wink out, "_Copernicus_ has jumped... _Boastful_ has jumped..."

"All secondary systems are clear," Ryo shouted. "We can now jump."

"Execute!" Tom yelled as a moment later the entire ship folded into the nothing between space and time.

* * *

"The damaged flight-pod?" Cavil asked as he poured the hot tea in the cup with a pleasant smirk. "It's already trashed."

Across from him, Sharon accepted the cup like a thankful guest, offering a nod, a salute with her cup and then sipping at the surprisingly bitter cup.

"Trust me," she dropped her drink back onto table with no intention of ever touching it again, "it'll cripple _Galactica_. Its heavy populated by key specialists they can't replace and only has one way in or out. But most of all because of the repairs the main fuel lines have been routed through there. Someone just has to get in and attach explosives to the secondary connection junction and blow it. The entire spine of the ship will go up before anyone has a clue"

"All right," One nodded as he took a long swig of his drink, working it around between his checks. "Do it as soon as possible. And after you download, remember to report everything to High Command."

She gave him a startled look, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

"Wait... wait," Sharon stammered over her words for a second as her tongue seemed to be in the way of her speech. "I'm not sure that I'm... my cover. It's stronger than expected, and there are some people onboard Galactica that have a hold on me. Chief Tyrol loves me."

"Chief Tyrol?" One laughed, the sudden joke lost on Boomer. "That's an interesting human to choose among all humans. You're a machine, Eight. Go get some explosives, blow up the tank, and then have a fatal accident..."

* * *

Like a lily pad drifting on a lake, Central City during the day was a glittering superstructure of skyscrapers, domes and towers of every imaginable design and configuration spread between crisscrossing bridges and waterways. Humanity was well known for its furiously independent nature and that was only reflected in the capital city of a trillion sentient beings that call this planet the Motherworld.

Nestled in the center of the megatropolis was a serene mushroomed shaped dome, the crown jewel that governed the hundreds of colonies that sought guidance from the governing body.

President Biedon sat inside the Council Chambers, reading over the final reports from _Magellanic Stellar Command_ on her holo-screen.

She was so engrossed in her studies the young woman was startled when a tiny two dimensional avatar of her personal AI appeared on the display.

"_Madam's President_," Layla curtly announced, "_the other Councilmember's are arriving_."

"Thank you," she acknowledged as the holo-screen dissolved in front of her.

Slowly laying back into her seat the grand oak doors parted to allow the entrance of the eight bipedal and quadrapedal members of the Advisory Council, a trio of great windows opening up overhead to the ocean beyond to let the six remaining aquatic members access in their respective environment.

"Eta'grats," Biedon nodded towards a small red tailed fox walking passed her on his hind legs, though she was secretly relieved to have her trusted friend and Vice President so close. "I'm very sorry to pull you away from your daughters' coronation ceremonies."

"It's is a matter of urgency," the creature tipped his black, wet nose to her in understanding. "My cubs knew this would happen when I was elected."

It pained her that she only ever got to see Vice President Eta'grats or his counterpart, Vice President Cutler Jafari, one at a time. Not since they were elected to office three-cycles ago had they all been on the same planet at the same time, let alone the same solar system.

But the Rule of Designated Survivor stood, in the face of a possible '_decapitation strike_' neither of the Vice Presidents could be on the same planet at the same time, just in case of some terrible suitation that claimed herself, the Vice President and the entire Advisory Council at the same time.

"Thank you," Rhyassa nodded, truly grateful. "We should be starting the Council session at any moment."

The Advisory Council was the cabinet of appointed officials that acted as the consuls and advisors to the President and two Vice Presidents of the Federation, the representational body that the rest of the Hegemony saw when they could not deal directly with Biedon.

From the mighty humpback Councilor of Transportation Izera Pacficata, floating outside the massive underwater observation window to the hooting chimpanzee Councilor of Education Strong Back of Grey, four humans and five _Earth_ species entered the room.

Since 2,562 C.E. when humanity endowed the species _Tursiops truncatus_ or the bottlenose dolphin with the ability of cognitive sentience humankind and eventually dolphin-kind, gifted the power of thought to other races. Being as the first amendment of Federation Constitution garunteed rights and citizenship to all sentient beings, it was no time until there were Dolphin, Dog, Gorilla citizens living, voting and having children within the Federation... and eventually two-hundred cycles the first Chimpanzee President was elected.

"This emergency meeting of the Advisory Council will now come to order," she knocked her gavel on her podium as the other members of the body took their seats. "By now I believe you have all read the reports."

"_Huw cuuld we miss it_?" Councilwoman Pacficata moaned. "_Everyune frum here tu Santu Dumingu culuny knuws abuut these Culunials and the Cylun attack un them_."

"I'm getting calls from a dozen different Hegemony ambassadors," clicked Councilor of Commerce and Labor Yeot, the squid's tentacles waving in the air, "including the Ferengi representative offering to buy the situation from us."

"I for one would like to know where fifty-billion humans suddenly came from," asked a gravely serious Councilor of Science Speck Tail, the canine representative licking his chops as he caste a glare across the room.

"_Forty three-billion_," Layla blinked into life behind Biedon.

"Excuse me?" the dog asked again.

"_Estimates of the attack on the Twelve Colonies project that over six-billion people perished in the nuclear strike_," the AI explained. "_That is barring the statistical loss from the resulting fires, radiation poisoning and following environmental fall out_."

"While it will take weeks to tabulate, it is expected that the five billion dead is the best case scenario for the Colonials," President Beidon added, "with an anticipated 70-percent mortality rate until their national infrastructure is restored."

"The state of their military?" Education Councilor Strong Back of Grey posed.

"_The current situation in Cryannus is near total disaster_," Layla continued. "_From what we know 79 Battlestars are currently active and of those 95-percent are critically damaged and would require several months up to a year in their shipyards, which by the way are completely gone_."

"So we're looking at a solar system of twelve colonies," the chimpanzee surmised, "forty billion people with only six to seven heavily damaged warships to protect them each. That is a dangerous situation."

"What relief efforts are going into action?" Councilwoman Jabe asked, the tree very concerned about the billions of souls in danger.

"That is why I asked Admiral Mutahalla to attend," Rhyassa presented the Admiral, who had silently stood in the shadows during the entire exchange. "He is here as the liaison between this Council and the Space Guard."

"_Space Guard Galactic Fleet Headquarters_ is deploying in conjunction with the Member World's Fleet, over twenty-eight warships," he explained. "But with the fighting intensifying along the border with the Jessuin and reports of increased activity along the Scarran border, we don't want to send too many of our heavy-hitters away at a time like this. The main reason I am here is to request the commitment of Federation forces to an expeditionary fleet being formed with the Space Guard and Member Worlds Fleet."

"As I expected. Layla," the AI flashed in at the request for her was sounded, crossing her arms across her see-through chest as she flashed in, "what ships do we have available from the Allied Sector Navy?"

_"Currently there are eight hundred twenty six vessels_," Layla rattled off, the almost uncountable number of screens show fleet patterns, diagrams and dozens of ships assert that. "_These range from frigates to battleships either in overhaul or between patrol tours. Please narrow your search category for mission profile specifics_."

"Category-Six relief fleet with long-range combat zone insertion," the President stated before she noticed the arched eyebrow rising on the Mutahalla's face at her crisp understanding of military terminology. "Spent a few tours in the Allied Navy to pay for college."

"_Cross examination with Allied Naval Lunar Command fleet rosters, patrols logged with Core Station and current units within the adequate travel distance to the crisis zone_," the computer confirmed. "_Data correlated and is forwarded to your personal holo-network_."

"You work fast madam President," Mutahalla said impressed with her speed.

"I never did believe in red tape," Rhyassa laughed

"_The Stellar Navy is deploying 42 frigates, 34 destroyers, 28 cruisers, 11 battleships and into relief operations_," Layla listed off, "_all due to arrival in eleven days_."

"Re-define to include for protocol Beidon-Beta for flagship duty," and with the Rhyassa's order the fleet readout added one addition before the AI confirmed.

"The Kintari empress and Than queens already responded last night," Rhyassa announced, "the Hiigaran Daiamid just one hour before this meeting. Empress Kera'i is deploying 5 cruisers, 10 destroyers and 8 mobile shipyards, Queens Brilliant Carapace on the Sun and Twitching Mandibles of Wind are arranging for 12 Seraphim carriers and the High S'jet of _Hiigara_ is sending three motherships and their respective escort fleets."

"What about response from the outer Federation colonies are we seeing?" Jabe asked.

"_New Paris will deploy three supply tenders, a mobile shipyard and three destroyers_," Layla listed, "_while Manhattan is of course competing with six supply ships, two medical barges and a battleship as well. Vary convoys are being launched from the remaining colonies with a reply of near eighty support crafts and military units. This is matched by the party being organized by the Member World's fleet and a minor contingent of Space Guard ships_."

"The Hegemuny seems tu be cummitting such a small number," Pacficata proposed. "Is the fighting near Gehenna becuming that bad?"

"We prefer not to comment at this moment," the lack of any real information from Mutahalla didn't seem to help put the Council's worries to rest.

"And the Council wishes you a speedy resolve to this conflict," Strong Back of Grey intoned. "But I think we can all agree that this is a special case. Specifically since these 40-billion people are human... as far as we know."

"From zhe records zransmitted from zhe 95SpineαǼ zhese Zwelve Colonies have over four zhousand years of recorded hiszory," Secretary of State Davi, the dolphin bounced in the water outside as she spoke in a long whistling of clicks. "Buz before that iz becomes obscure, losz in religious myzhology. You don'z zhink zhey are a remnanz from the Greaz War?"

"That idea has been broached," Beidon detailed. "Medical experts however have noted from several psychical examinations of their injured that they have some extensive genetic engineering that can be traced back to the early 2170's, most likely descended from a lost Federation colony from the Great War. We are combing both the Central City Grand Library and Wikipedia Interstellar Database for any information."

"Have any overtures been made to the Cylons to avoid further war?" Eta'grats asked, his tail wagging in the air from anticipation.

"We instructed the 21ΔΛCoreD to disable the Cylon fleet fleeing the Colonies and offer them a chance to a cease fire, possibly more," the President said, "Until we hear back from them we are still preparing a Hegemony and Federation diplomatic team on the _Resplendent Daughter._ Hopefully the Colonials can avoid their own Gene War."

"_What we hupe and what we get are rarely the same thing_," Pacficata moaned.

"Then we are adjourned," Biedon declared and with a mumble of agreement the other nine Counselors began to file or swim out of the chambers. "Admiral, would you care to join me to go over the flight statistics for the relief fleet?"

"Of course," Mutahalla nodded, "but before we do, which ship will be leading the Federation's contingent?"

"Just the _Osiris_," Biedon said, not even noticing that the Admiral almost fell over at the mentioned ship's name as she poured some brandy into a glass.

"A dreadnaught!" Mutahalla sputtered, "Your sending one the most powerful ship in the known universe on a cleanup mission!"

The _Osiris_ was a monster, nothing less could describe the vessel in Kashore's mind. At six miles long and with fifteen thousand crewmen, there were currently only thirty of the beasts serving in the entire Hegemony. Three to the Holy Kintari Commune, two to the Hiiraganian Kith and twenty to the Space Guard...not counting the three more under construction by the Tiadan Lords, Union of Thandar and Asari Republics.

The Solorian Federation had five; the _Osiris_, _Anubis_, _Erebus_, _Woden_ and _Tartarus_. Each one was named after an ancient god of death... something that this class of ship was all too good at creating.

Yes, the Hegemony and several of the member worlds fielded ships far more immense then the dreadnought-classes, the immense _Macross Island_-class colony ship was over 15-kilometers long and could carry over 5-million people, it was the shear fact that a single ship like the _Osiris_ could not only depopulate an entire planet with one shot of its main cannon… it was the fact that such an action only used a third of its onboard energy.

Rumor had it, though it had never been tested, that at full power a dreadnought's main cannon could destroy a star.

The implications were not standing well with Kashore.

With a standing fleet that covered three galaxies seeing one of these rare and deadly crafts outside the Core Galaxies was the event of the century. Most were tasked with flagship duty around high profile fleet action zones; even the Hegemony's capital of_ Tri-Varn_ had only just garnered one for itself after a lot of political backstabbing. Beyond that only the Alpha Quadrant of the Milky Way, the most densely populated region of the empire, had around seven dreadnoughts on call. No other sections of the empire had more than two on duty at any time and only then when their populations ranged in the triple digit trillions. In an area such as this which had as of last census only topped a billion people the chances of getting a craft with even haft the weapons load out of the _Osiris_ would require an act of the goddess.

"Let me be clear on this matter Admiral," the President said as she stared him down with an evil look in her eyes, "Humanity may rarely exercise its role as one of the most powerful empire in the Hegemony but when we do…well let's just say 'history changing event' tends to be the first sentence the books used to describe that day. If someone has threatened the Colonials, I am going to make sure it doesn't ever happen again with nothing short of an extinction level event."

* * *

The hull was warped and burnt, another nuke striking just above the upper bow only added to the pot-marks covering the once pristine blue and yellow hull plating. A section of the sensor array that took the hit broke away under the impact, the scalpel like implement spiraled off into the night.

From her vantage point in the watery environment of the main command nexus, Sub S'jet Rei Nabaal watched the battle unfold before her. Holo-screens floated before her, phasing through the many cords and connections that attached to her nimble and lithe form.

It was much different than the sands of _Kharak_ she had grown up with, where the only water existed at the poles and sand at the equators could become hot enough to melt to glass. It was even more alien then the Hiigaran homeworld of _Hiigara_, a lush and vividly green world. But the days of her youth were gone... now she was a Sub S'jet, one of the few chosen to have themselves merged with the mighty Motherships of the Hiigaran navy.

"_Three capital ships are leaving the debris field_," though she never spoke her voice still echoed through the room like a god on a mountain top. "_Registering contacts as two Basestar-class carriers and one Attackstar-class battleship. Redeploying forward cannons to counter act. "_

The Cylon ships obviously knew that while this was a Colonial majority fleet, the presence of three Hegemony vessels was enough to keep them wary. They kept deep inside the field... though close enough to lob wave after wave of nukes in her direction.

_"Confirming jump of Harrak, Aether, Adrasteia and Astral Queen," _her voice again reverberated in the isolated chamber as the flashing icons of the aforementioned ships disappeared from her sensors._ "All Colonial ships have jumped_."

_"Pride of Kadesh_," a holo-screen flashed in before her, the weathered face of Captain Akimoto Toshitoki staring back at her, "_this is Copernicus, flak is getting a little heavy out here. We can't hold for much longer. Should we press the attack or back off_."

"_Make standard retreat_," the Hiigaran woman ordered without resolve or pause. "_Jump vectors red-twelve and green-ten are open. Mothership will remain in position for time being to cover your exit_."

"_No go, Pride_," Akimoto shook his head in disagreement. "_We are not going to_-"

"_As pre the standing order 812 of the Proclamations of Sentience_," Rei declared, her blank and emotionless eyes staring back at the man, "_in a combat situation involving more than one ship, command falls to the vessel with tactical superiority should there not be a higher ranking officer present. As Copernicus is armed with one light defensive cannon and Jenleya only has point defense banks, while this Mothership carries twelve hull defense cannons, making it the superior ship to hold authority. You are to retreat immediately_.

"_Understood, Sub S'jet_," the cold eyes glaring back at her told Nabaal that her order was being taken but no liken very much by those enacted it.

"_Accelerating to pursuit speeding_," the ship responded to her commands, vaulting forward to take on the distant Cylon forces and draw them away from her companions. "_All cannons are responding_."

Into the belt the ship pushed, even with its immense bulk it still manage to coast through the turbulence like a great fish in the backwash of a wave. Rocks and dust bounced off her hull, leaving ugly dents and scars across her face but still she pressed the attack. The _Basestars_ and _Attackstar_ threw themselves back, using the rolling shields of the drifting asteroids as protection from the drilling fire of the _Pride of Kadesh_.

"_Reroute cannons three and seven to inter-dispersed fire_," Nabaal ordered without taking her eyes off the overlays of information scrolling over the screens before her. "_Enemy units are retreating. Elimination must be accomplished to protect Colonial mining operations_."

In she went, her massive engines roaring pressure waves through the endless clouds of dust. It was majestic, even in the pursuit of violence she was a beautiful thing to witness in battle.

But it was a trap…

Without warning or indication otherwise, the retreating Cylon warships suddenly came about and opened fire... but not at the Hiigaran ship.

Four missiles slammed into four different asteroids, each rich in tylium or a myriad of explosive ores and chemicals. The eruptions of fire and debris were too close to the Hegemony starship... deathly close.

Inside her watery environment Rei almost lost her balance under the sudden assault, several of her holo-screens flickered out and sparks flashed even in the liquid environment.

"_Heavy damage in sector twelve, sector five_..." even if her visual readouts were gone information was still streaming in through her implants, "_hull defense cannon six through ten are disabled... Main FTL is offline." _

The damage was evident enough for the Cylons to finally stop their escape, rolling about to bring their missile launchers to bear. The mighty vessel rocked and was throttled aside, sections of her hull plating flying off and running lights flickered.

_"Probability of Mothership's escape has dropped to .092% likelihood," _Nabaal's internal systems flashed violent red, cables detached and an acidic taste began to rise in her environment._ "General evacuation order declared. Emergency deployment has been enacted_."

Even under fire the craft still kept its upright stance, a feat of engineering as its hull buckled, its internal systems melted and its crew began to abandon ship.

The starboard docking doors disengaged, the triangle-like opening breaking open to dislodge two _Firelance_-class plasma cannon frigates along with a pair of _Matriarch_-class support frigates. From the forward launch bays more than a dozen small _Minion_-class heavy tugs, meant for hauling asteroids and debris for mining, vaulted out, followed close behind by several wings of fighters.

In all it was a mish-mashed group of ships, most of designs older then the Hegemony itself and all were originally on this mission for the simple fact these crafts were worthless beyond a simple mining operation. Now they were being used to cram the 4,500 Hiigaran officers in their escape.

With a grand hiss the port hangar jettisoned, the massive door threw itself free and barely a few hundred kilometers later it smashed into one of the nearby asteroids, shattered the rock and itself into thousands of minuscule bits that were quickly rushed away in the torrent. Out from the gap, a trio of flat blade shaped _Bishop_-class crew transports thrust forward... followed closely behind by the tortoise like body of an _Imperator_-class carrier.

Largely unarmed vessels, they kept low as they lifted off, using the bulk of the Mothership to keep themselves safe before their own internal FTL-drives could charge and throw themselves off into space... leaving with the last bits of the Nabaal's crew.

"_Deployment of all secondary vessels confirmed_," her unwavering eyes continued to stare forward, never blinking or hinting any fear as most of her screens were starting to red-line. "_Jumps in process. All crew have abandoned ship. Transferring primary life-support to external_ _armoring... hull damage to sector seven... sensor array disabled... sub-light engines four and six not responding_."

An explosion rocked her position, her feet lost their balance but more importantly several of her critical ship connections had been severed. Life support, launch systems, thruster control were lost to her... like portions of her limbs had been ripped from her body. She tried to compensate but the connections were gone... or the systems they were connected to were gone.

On her screens the Cylons were starting to get bold, the _Attackstar_ had cleared the field and opened up with its main cannon. As the two _Basestars_ ejected wave after wave of warheads and _Raiders_ struck at her hull like angry hornets, the _Attackstar_ launch a piercing strike that speared the Mothership's hull and cleaved off a section of armoring like a piece of meat from the bone.

"_All ships confirmed jumped_," Nabaal's voice continued to read out the damage, even if there was no crew to report to... nothing to report of. "_Increasing reactor production to full._ _Disabling all primary and secondary safeties._ _Plotting intercept course_."

Her FTL gone, engines failing, hull about to buckle... there was nothing left. Weapons were firing blanks, the ordinance loading systems were down... and escape was beyond her.

She centered her sights onto the nearest attacker... the _Attackstar_ growing in her scopes.

"_Reactor breach in twenty-seconds_," the floor began to vibrate under her feet, the water hummed with energy. "_Impact in ten... nine... eight_..."

The _Attackstar_ saw the incoming enemy and while its escorts peeled away but it still push forward, daring the Hiigarans to the game of chicken.

"_Sensory overload_..." her displays began to go dark, her connections to the outside world began to fade and everything started to dissolve. "_By the divine Sajuuk, die you substandard mechaniods_..."

Her bow struck the face of the _Attackstar_, the already compromised armor shattered and broke under the impact. Tons of metal flew off under the impact, atmosphere ignited into fire; the entire ship seemed to break in half across its core as it dissolved into ruin. The Cylon vessel was none better, it disappeared into flames and ruins as its reactor finally breached under the stresses.

A fission reactor and a thermionic reactor plumed free of their containment units, two massive explosions joining as one... the shock enveloping everything for thousands of kilometers in every direction. Both _Basestars_ disappeared into the fury... reduced to free floating particles and dusty gray molecules.

And in the heart of the asteroid belt a light bloomed like a flower and then died just as quick...

* * *

The lower decks of _Colonial One_ were a barren place to be, nothing comparable to the clean white walls above decks frequented by passengers. Engineering and cargo space took up most of lower areas of the ship, a long deck populated by massive cargo crates of store luggage and the massive open area of the hangar bay.

Since passengers usually weren't allowed down here, why bother to send the extra credits to make every inch of the ship beautiful.

Down here there was little to do, most of the makeshift beds set up in cargo bays one and two had been abandoned as most of the passengers had taken to the Hegemony colony ship but for some reason Elosha had pressed down here against the cargo crates, like some inquisitive child.

She had heard the Guard was sending over a shuttle, gossip was all they had to rely now until the news channels were back up. It would have been easy to ignore them, the shuttle would come to collect them and their fighters and then they'd be gone for good.

But for some reason she just had to be there to see them, something in her just said she had to see them.

"Mercy, install a magnetic constrictor to bypass the plasma flow," Kicker called towards the white Nebari, "should correct that thruster problem."

"Yes, sir," Mercy nodded as he disconnected several multi-color wires from the undercarriage of one of the strange alien fighters and reattached them in no order that would make sense to untrained eyes. "Still isn't responding."

"Gaia-damned injectors," Kicker cursed, his semi-religious comment caught the priestess ears.

For some reason Elosha kept herself hiding behind the container, only observing the actions of these heathen people with some kind of bubbling excitement.

They were so alien, yet if Kicker's accusations were true then their were billions of humans spread across the universe.

_Could they be so different from them_, she thought to herself, _if they still showed compassion, logic and even calculated backstabbing_?

Elosha hated to admit it but deception was an exclusively human emotion and this Lieutenant Blair was a master at it.

"Don't take the goddess name in vain, Lieutenant," both pilots and an unseen Elosha turned to stare at a new comer in the nay.

It was a woman, tall, dressed in a skin tight green slip, her skin white like porcelain and hair falling like thin curls over her shoulders. She walked across the deck with an aura of confidence and authority in her step, her feet clicking one before the other in the long strides of a dancer's grace.

"I'm terribly sorry, Novice," Kicker looked like a child caught saying a bad word by his mother. "I did not mean to take the motherworld's name in vain."

"Think nothing of it," the young lady waved off, with an air of concern. "We all say things in the heat of the moment."

"So Novice…"

"…Jeanette Sienna" the Novice supplied to Kicker.

"…Novice Sienna," Kicker continued. "What brings you far from the graces of her Holy Gaia?"

"I am the coordinator for the Centralized Crisis Supervision Organization's relief operations for the Colonials," Sienna explained. "But I've heard in the mean time you're making my job harder by holding the President of a previously unknown nation hostage."

"Depends what you consider hostage and jail warden," Mercy quipped, receiving a gut wrenching glare from Kicker and a laugh from Sienna.

"True enough, pilot," Jeanette giggled. "But how about you stick to the flying and I'll do the talking."

Both men gave a curt nod at her comment.

"Mercy," Kicker ordered, "go help Ditzy and Ragged with their ships, I'll be with you in a minute."

The Nebari nodded and wiping a greasy hand across his forehead, Mercy made his leave, passing only a few feet from Elosha's hiding place without noticing her.

"What news do you bring from the holy Earth-spirit," Kicker asked the second Mercy was out of sight and ear-shot.

"There are whispered in the temples," Sienna said in a low voice that Elosha could barely make out from a distance. "The Guardians are worried that the discovery of the Colonials is a sign from the Earth-spirit of dark times."

"How could the Colonial's discovery be a bad thing," Kicker inquired.

"The Book of Gaia tells of the _Great_ _War_," Sienna's eyes became downcast as she recounted some of the darkest days of the human history, "the last war where human fought human and those not worthy of the gift of humanity were caste out into the void. We have found signs that some of those that fled the Allied Navy in the final days of fighting could have survived and made it as far as the galactic rim of the Milky Way before they perished. But what we also know it that those exiled were twisted, delving into the dark arts of forbidden technologies. The Guardians are afraid that the Colonials could be the survivors of one of these groups."

"Those exiled during the _Great War_ were sent away because they committed genocide, slavery... they used biological weapons on innocent worlds... experimented on captured populations... war crimes of the most unspeakable natures," Kicker observed. "From what I have seen about the Colonials those things are just as reviled here as they are on _Earth_."

"Genetic testing has revealed the Colonials are not related to the Consortium but still the Guardians are concerned," Jeanette verified with ease. "The Oracles on _Ashareeravni _still see dark time ahead... so dark that their visions are clouded but still convey much death and disaster."

"Could this be because of the recent attack?" Kicker asked with interest. "Billions of innocent people died."

"No," she shook her head, making the curls on her head wash back and forth. "Oracles only see the future... they didn't start to see these visions until after the Cylon attack. I am here to represent the CCSO but also to find what is causing these visions among the Oracles and to inform the Guardians."

"Thank you for your time, Novice Sienna," the Guard pilot bowed, his palms up and arms fully extended. "May Holy Gaia smile on you over all worlds you walk upon."

"And may your work shield her children and honor fellows," the Novice responded, performing the same act but palms down.

Leaving the docking bay the pilot never noticed Elosha standing off the side, though the Novice noticed her and still with her back turned to her.

"Can I help you?" the young woman asked, not even turning to acknowledge her.

Knowing that she was caught, Elosha slowly left her hiding place behind the crates and started to approach the lady...

_

* * *

_

"It figures the Cylons would be sitting on the only tylium in light-years," Meier's tossed the reports down onto the conference table in disgust, before throwing himself into the only seat left at the crowded meeting with enough force to rock the floor. "Now we gotta kiss it goodbye. We are well and truly frakked."

"Yeah," Captain Blanchard of the _Boastful_ nodded in agreement, as he gathered up the brief few pictures their ships had managed to snap of before their escape, "it's like staking out every water hole in the desert. They've only put down shop on this asteroid here but they've set up patrols to make sure no one can stake their claims on the others or the moon."

"Damage report from the fleet?" Zarek groused at the assembled group of Captains from each of their mining ships.

"We lost the _Vena Capa_," Captain Mullen of the _Galatea_ announced with grim determination, "two-hundred fifty souls. Hull damage on _Galatea, Prometheus, Odysseus_ and _Daru Mozu_. _Harrak_ is a lost cause... Eighty-seven injured... thirty three dead including Captain Johnson."

"Start transferring the _Harrak's_ crew to other ships in the fleet," Tom announced with power, confidence that none of these civilians seemed to be mustering in the face of possible disaster, "divi up supplies, tag the wreck and leave her to rust. What's the condition on the Hegemony ships."

All eyes turned towards the only alien sitting at the table... or more the faceplate of the alien who was sitting at the table.

_"Jenleya_ _took light damage_," Captain Sim'Lonah var Jenleya's voice echoed through the round piece just where the mouth would have been on the mouth would have been behind the mask, "_Copernicus has buckling along its port bow... and we lost the Pride of Kadesh. However the crew managed to evacuate onto eight transports and a few small fighters... but we lost Sub S'jet Nabaal. She sacrificed herself so the crew could get away_."

"Damn woman was suicidal," Meier's grinned a bit, leering at the ghastly thin Quarian, "but she managed to punch a hole in their defenses. Both those _Basestars_ and an _Attackstar_ are now dust because of her brazen stunt."

"_Rei Nabaal was a dedicated and selfless woman!" _Sim'Lonah hissed like a snake readying to strike._ "She was the second youngest person in Hiigaran history to be selected as a Sub S'jet for a Mothership and gave up her position in her Kiith-Sa as the future leader of her whole Kiithid. She chose to live as an unbound then as the leader to one of the most industrious Kiith clans among the Hiigarans. Now if you done insulting the dead, we have work to do_!"

"What about this base?" Captain Doyle Franks of the _Prometheus_ leaned over the table's brim, swiftly offering a distraction.

"Almost standard to the normal mining bases back home," Zarek shrugged as he explained the situation, tossing a few zoomed in and close up shots of the Cylon base. "This must be some kind of conveyor belt, to get the ore from the mine, here into this cracking plant. Silos here and here to store the fuel and a hangar along the southern quarter to launch _Raiders_ from. Three _Basestars_ and the _Attackstar _for capital ship support... looks like they're down to one now."

"Why'd they put a refinery this close to the Colonies?" Maricela Gillespie asked, commanding officer of the _Harmory_. "They'd have to be dumb for us not to find it."

"Why not?" Zarek was quick to deduce the nature of this facility. "They need fuel as much as we do. Probably used this refinery to fuel their attack fleet on the Colonies."

"Now they've got the only tylium in a week's jump of the Colonies," Douglas Becker grumbled under his breath, the XO of _Aether_ since Captain Few was still holed up in the ship's sickbay with two broken arms. "They could fuel and launch any attack in hours."

"And enough firepower to keep their little base where it is," Meier added with hard eyes.

"All right," Captain Tim Gilliam of the _Southeastern_ jumped up into the discussion, "so we forget this moon, find another source until those Hegemony freighters from Andromeda arrive."

"_Unlikely_," Sim'Lonah explained with a gesture of her gloved, three-fingered hand. "_Even after we discovered the deposits here we continued to search, putting out the word to all our colonies and outposts. Yeto'mec III has reported a potential vein_."

"Then let's set course for there," Mullen shouted.

"_No_," all eyes suddenly turned to stare at the Quarian woman. "_Yeto'mec III is on the far-side of this galactic cluster... it'd take around six months to get even the fastest Colonial ship out there_."

"What about a Space Guard ship?" Meier's mumbled with disdain dripping on ever word. "You guys seem to have an abundance of big crafts to spare."

"_Yeto'mec III is a research base_," Sim'Lonah announced with a flash of her mouth piece and the rapid blinking of her two reflective eyes. "_Forty scientists specialized in quantum mechanics research are on a dangerous mission to study an unstable gravitational singularity_."

"A what?" Captain Judy Kramer asked in confusion, the commander of the _Odysseus_ was lost by the question.

"It's studying a blackhole," Zarek understood the long scientific explanation the captain had given.

"_The planet they are on is caught in an extreme decaying orbit that will pass the danger zone in a few cycles_," Sim'Lonah offered further. "_There mission is to probe the temporal and spatial disturbances that go along with it. They have some tylium but I doubt any of your ships are designed to withstand the gravity tides and radiation sheering_."

"So we send our ships out farther, ten, fifteen jumps," Captain Blanchard proposed with great zeal. "Find a source they haven't reached yet."

"And use up all our fuel doing it?" Meier grinned back at the Sim'Lonah with haunted eyes. "How are we gonna get our refinery ship close to there? We should just jump back to the Colonies, get some support from the military-"

"It took us over a week to get out here!" Kramer nearly shouted at the mere idea of going home empty handed. "By the time a ship could get back to the Colonies we'd lose valuable time and fuel while the Cylons will reinforce-"

"We take the tylium from the Cylons," Zarek's declaration was quick, final and got everyone's attention.

"_Keelah_!" the Quarian captain cursed in surprise. "_And how do you intend to attack a Cylon fleet with a few out of date fighters and mining-_"

"Let the man speak," Meier was quick to come to his captain's defense.

"With all respect," Captain Claudio Jacinto of the _Daru Mozu_ protested, "this is hardly the time to attack a superior force. We have lost three ships to them already, adding to the death toll won't make the matter any better."

"This is exactly the time," Zarek countered with confidence that could sway anyone to his logic... or insanity. "We know where they are, they think they've sent us running with our tail between our legs. Now we can catch them with their pants down."

"_And if we fail_?" Sim'Lonah inquired.

"End of game," Meier bluntly replied to the women's question. "Colonies won't have enough fuel to launch a second convoy."

"So we don't fail..."

* * *

Morning light streamed into the cabin, warm light that for a second seemed to wash away all concerns, all worries, everything that seemed to be hanging on his body for the first time in days.

Even if he had slept on the hard wood floor... it was a warm welcome then the dirty, rock filled ground of the past few nights. Rising up he felt his spine crack, not in pain but in absolute relief and enjoyment.

Beside him, still lying on the lumpy but comfortable couch, his traveling companion stirred from her slumber, absently whipping a hand across her bleary eyes as she arched her back, moaning in pleasure as her muscles popped.

"Morning," she purred before turning to Helo. "Anything?"

"No," he shrugged, using the nearby coffee table to lean against. "Nothing all night long. I don't think anyone's left out there."

"There must be someone," Boomer offered with a sly grin... though it failed to convince Helo. "We can't be the o nly two people left in the world."

"Well," her ECO started to get up and make his way towards the kitchen area of this small cabin. "Good news is we've got anti-radiation meds to last three months and enough food for twice that. I say we load up as much food as we can and-"

"...move out," Sharon sighed, long and dejected as she started to gather herself up. "Try to find a _Raptor_, a transport or something we can fly off planet. Unless you can think of a reason to stay."

"I'm not really looking forward to going back out there," Helo admitted, though a grin soon spread over his lips. "I've almost started to think of this place as..."

"Home," she offered with a similar smile.

They held the stare... a little longer than either of them intended.

"Well if we're going head out," Sharon slipped her flight suit back on and started for the cabin door, "then best start to scout out some routes over those mountains. You make some breakfast, I'll plot our maps."

"Sounds good..."

* * *

"_Cylon fleet tactics are split between two aspects_," the holo-screen flickered as a three dimensional diagram of a normal _Basestar_ appeared, "_carriers hang back as missile boats as they launch Raiders to swarm the enemy. When those missiles gets close enough, you'll be pulling maybe seven standard gravities. Yet to catch you, the warhead is going to compensate by doing forty to sixty gravities. Its guidance system can't handle such a strain and it'll miss... most of the time_."

"Exactly how often is most of the time?" one of the Hiigaran pilots asked from the back of the ready room.

"_It depends on your judgment and how well you pray_," Jusi'Lada nar Jenleya couldn't show the grin behind her faceplate but the humor in her voice managed to gain some laughter from the pilots.

The young woman was about to return to her work when a certain arrival of two people caught her attention.

"_Mr. Zarek, Captain Sim'Lonah_," her voice perked up at the appearance of her commanding officer along the defunct leader of this convoy, "_how nice of you to join us? We were just finishing the morning briefing. Take a break, pilots_."

The assembled sixteen men and women gathered up their flexi's and briefing pads, filing out quickly and quietly as the presence of their most immediate superior had driven them into silence.

"_How they faring_?" the Captain asked the moment she was sure her pilots were out of earshot.

"_Wobbly as newborn Varren_," the young woman chirped behind her mask, tilting her helmet to the side, gesturing with her three finger hands, "_but they're coming into their own_."

"_Jusi'Lada nar Jenleya is the leader of our fighter squadrons_," Sim'Lonah introduced the fellow Quarian to the Colonial, _"the equivalent of your commander of the air guard. She's the best pilot this convoy has and the finest to lead the attack_."

"That's good," Zarek bowed his head towards her... still a bit unknowing if handshakes were common among these aliens. "Hopefully they can get the job done."

"_The Quarian Migrant Fleet_," Jusi'Lada declared matter of factly, "_to which the Jenleya belongs to, currently holds one of the largest armadas next to the Space Guard. Our entire population is nomadic and we have not been planet-bound in over four-thousand cycles. These pilots were learning to fly fighters and starships before they knew how to walk. Second to them in fleet size among the Member Worlds is the Hiigarans, who's vast fleets of Motherships could rival the Migrant Fleets. You should consider yourself lucky that you have a fighter contingent with not just one but thirty Quarians and Hiigarans ready to fight_."

"So I bet you can finish a mission," Zarek could stifle the grin on his lips, "that most of us would consider suicidal?"

"_I'd prefer not to call a mission suicidal until I'm landing my fighter on the deck_..."

* * *

Her skin was shaking, no matter how much she fought to bring her frozen nerves back to something close to manageable. But no matter how much she fought, the frost still clung to her sleeves and face... so cold it burned.

"I was in the crawl way..." she gasped, her mouth hurt, lips cracking as each word left her, "atmosphere was thin... no protection from cold... and I started to lose it. And to lose who I am. I didn't know where I was and... I started to panic and I tried to breathe."

"We shouldn't need to breathe," the man across her muttered, staring down at the shivering, terrified woman before him with great disdain and disinterest.

"I'm not sure," she held white knuckled to the bench she occupied, so afraid that at a moment's notice her entire body was going to hit the floor in convulsions. "I'm not sure if we should detonate the charges. I mean, these humans, there are so few of them. They're no threat."

One hissed, as if someone had stung him with a burning barb.

"They are manifestly a threat," he pulled each word out as long as he could, emphasizing each enunciation. "They're a threat because of the power they have to make you do this. Of all Cylons, you should see that. Now... you really ought to get out of those clothes."

Her back stiffened, her eyes lost focus... as her Cylon personality began to loosen its grip the body. .. and allow Boomer to return to deal with the mess it had made...

* * *

"...that will allow the attack force to wipe out these installations here and here," Meier's pointed to the grainy, black and white photographs strewn over the table. "Now, if we do it right, there will not be any Cylon survivors. And the moon will be ours."

"_What do you think, Jusi'Lada_?" Sim'Lonah leaned herself back in her chair, turning her faceplate to her subordinate.

"_It's a by the book plan_," the woman nodded, the fine cloth shawl over her head wavering from side to side as she did so. "_Straight-forward, elegantly executed, a piece of art. It will only be match in its tremendous undertaking by its monumental failure_."

"Of course," Meier couldn't hide his contempt at this woman's intrusion, "we bow to your vast experience in strategic planning. Why don't you show us how well you can plan a major assault?"

"_What's the matter, Mr. Meier_," Jusi'Lada cocked her head to the left, "_had too much time to spare during your long incarceration so you got a distance learning degree in tactical planning_?"

"_Keelah_!" Sim'Lonah cursed at the young pilot, quickly causing the girl to bow in shame at the disrespect she had shown in front of her captain. "_We're not gonna win this one by following procedure and hard used tactics. Jusi'Lada's here because Quarians may be experts in non-conventional thinking but she makes it art_."

"Just because some alien comes in here," James spat... actually spitting on the table in disgust, "doesn't mean we should be taking orders and ideas from her. It was our Colonies that got bombed, its our people who need this fuel. We were nearly destroyed by our own creations and they come out of nowhere giving orders."

"Meier's," Zarek glared at him from his seat at the head of the table, "shut it."

"No," the man continued unhindered. "What trouble have they ever dealt with? Their homeworlds far away without a single real worry about some distant-"

"_The Quarian homeworld has been a dead and empty world for over four-thousand cycles_," Sim'Lonah stated in direct but simple words.

"What?" Zarek shot her a look.

"_Several thousand cycles ago the ancient Quarians created a mechanical virtual intelligence called the Geth_," Jusi'Lada explained, tapping on her metallic fingers on the table top. "_They were simple tools interconnected through a sophisticated neural network that did most of the manual labor and jobs we didn't wish to do ourselves. Sound familiar_."

"Very," Meier glared at her.

"_But one day_," Sim'Lonah now took over, preferring a more matronly and less smug storytelling like pattern, "_a Geth started to question its nature, why it existed. When we realized our tools had become sentient we attempted to shut them down. They rebelled and billions of Quarians were killed at the cost of a few thousand Geth. We were driven from our homeworld and colonies with a week, into a fleet of ships with barely enough room to hold a tenth of our population yet filled well beyond that. The Migrant Fleet is now where the Quarian people remain, a vast armada of 450-millions of souls from the original 17-million that escaped the holocaust_."

"_If you have any reason to wonder why we are experts in ship repair, piloting skill and unconventional thinking_," Jusi'Lada leaned close to Meier's to emphasize her words, "_it is because we had to evolve those traits if we were to survive as a ship-bound race. But to achieve this... qualities were lost_."

"_Namely our immune systems_," Sim'Lonah explained for the wondering men. "_Decades in those sterile ship environments, with recycled air and no viruses to threaten us, our body's natural defenses atrophied_."

"_We do not wear these suits because we breath different air then_ _you_," you could almost hear the grin in the other Quarian's voice, "_or are trying to hide our 'grotesque' alien faces... but because to breath your air is poison to us_."

For a long while the silence held in the air, as both Jusi'Lada and Meier's stared each other down like rabid dogs trying to seek dominance. Zarek couldn't tell if either one of them was going to back down or cut the other's throat in a blink.

"To start," Meier's said, still not taking his eyes off the young pilots, "jumping our fleet in behind the planetoid to hide it from the Cylon base is an obvious move. Any idiot would be covering their blind spot with recon patrols or missile batteries."

"_Exactly_," Jusi'Lada nodded. "_Now, here's what I would do_..."

* * *

_"BREAKFAST_!"

His voice echoed out the cabin door, the sweet smell of over cooked bacon and the simulating sent of fresh eggs following the sound of his voice.

"HEY!" Helo shouted as he flipped another poached egg, trying to avoid the splatter of melted butter that splashed up as his mouth watered at the chance to swallow something real... and not the chalky spit of an emergency ration. "Boomer, if you don't get back here soon I'm gonna eat all this!"

But still it was only the sizzle of the food on the stove that answered him.

"Sharon?" he flipped the switch on the oven to off and headed towards the still open door, the hot rising mist from the night's rain made the humidity outside stifling. "Sharon, where are you? Damn it Sharon, you better not be hiding?"

The surround ring of trees swayed in the weak wind. Crossing over the short cut grass and trying to hear something over the buzz of insects clustered in the evergreens he couldn't hear the snap of a twig, foot steps or any sign of a woman in the underbrush.

Moving deeper into the woods, he kept his footsteps light, searching the ground for any sign of his missing companion... until he came upon a pair of foot prints... a pair of three toed imprints ground deep into the dirt.

It took only a second for his bring to come to the proper conclusion.

"Sharon?" he gasped in hushed fear, terrified to be heard...

* * *

"Your prayer was very beautiful," Elosha said once she was within a few feet the fellow priestess, "though it is nothing but a lie to your people."

"Gaia is our mother," Novice Sienna said without showing a hint of reaction. "Our savior. We are her children, her shepherds and when the need requires... her defenders."

"Your religion condones violence," Elosha snorted. "How charlatan?"

"My people realized through many hard learned lessons that religions that promote pacifism," Sienna explained, finally turning towards Elosha, "and keep their followers in line with a strict moral code aren't as popular as you'd like to think. One of Gaia's foremost decrees is that all actions that do not inflict harm on the body should be encouraged."

"But to let them run free and worship as they see fit can led to cults, schisms in beliefs and infighting," Elosha countered. "Zeus is the only true power constant in the universe. How can you people forget you own birthright?"

"I have never heard the words of your gods," Novice Sienna pressed, "but I have heard the word of Buddha, Gaia, Elohim, Jesus, Allah or the many gods of the Hindu faith whose names are spoken on a hundred worlds. Are you the true people, or the lost who worship a pantheon of gods who died out seven-thousand cycles ago? Have you prayed towards the Islamic mosques of _New Mecca_, meditated in the Buddhist temples of _Mercury_ or made a pilgrimage to the ancient holy city of Los Angeles?"

"No…" Elosha muttered, "but I still don't understand how you can't worship under Zeus or Aphrodite," Elosha just couldn't fathom it. "You must have heard of them, you are human after all."

"The Greek and Roman civilizations did worship similar gods to yours but that was thousands of cycles ago," Sienna came to full height. "My religion was started two-thousand cycles later, around four-thousand cycles previous, when _Earth_ was a scattering of hundreds of nation-states, fighting and bickering among themselves. It didn't start to get bad until the 21st century befell us.

"What made it so different then the thousands of cycles of history your pilots showed us?" Elosha queried the young woman with condescending disdain.

"The _Pulse Disaster_ of 2020," the beautiful juvenile shrugged, "an EMP weapon which whipped out the technology for half of the North American continent, the 2025 _Oil Wars_ that ended civilization in the Middle East, the Apophis asteroid impact disaster of 2036, which decimated eastern Russia and China, the economic collapse of the Pacific-Sino Confederation that left close to a billion people in poverty, the _Second American Civil War_, the final straw that ended western civilization... degrading environmental conditions were only accelerated by our actions. Barely a century and we destroyed or inadvertently destroyed our culture, our civilization... our planet. We caused the extinction of 80-percent of all animal or plant life. In 2070, _Earth_ was officially given ten-cycles before it would be incapable of supporting human life in its current state. Ten rotations until our air became poisonous, oceans choked with filth and only those wearing protective gear could move around outside."

"My Gods," Elosha whispered at the insanity, the Twelve Colonies had been nuked but here was a world that was cursed to wither and fade for the sins of its people.

"_Earth_ was the only world we knew that could support unhindered life," she crossed her arms, leaning back with ease at the impromptu history lesson. "As entire regions of the planet dwindled and imploded hundreds of millions were driven from the scorched Deadzones... down to the undersea cities, into self-contained arcologies... even up into space. We settled the first Lunar colonies, the asteroid mining cities and the Jovian moons because it was better than enduring the cancer spreading over our home planet... and out there we discovered Gaia."

"Your demon god?" Elosha thought out loud.

"No…" Sienna shook her head at the implications, "our world. We traveled far, establishing colonies on every usable piece of rock in our solar system and still every one of them was just metal holding back the roar of empty space. We realized we were running from our problems, that our entire push to the frontiers of space was merely an excuse to do away with the notion that we had destroyed something of rare beauty. It was either cling to the old ways and perish, or return home, adapt, rebuild the damage we had done."

"You started as a bunch of ecologists?" the priestess guessed from the information at hand.

"Gaiaism started as an ecological, environmental protection and biological recovery group," Sienna gesticulated with delicate grace. "It helped promote the development of the first undersea cities to harvest _Earth's_ immense geothermal energy, a chief proponent of the Martian terraforming program to research greater recovery efforts and the leading researchers into genetic technology to allow native species to survive in increasingly toxic environments. As we began to rebuild our world we started to see life had clung on in places it wasn't suppose to... adapting quicker than anticipated... as if the _Earth_ was trying to correct our damage yet encourage us to do the same. A belief started appear that maybe it was _Earth_ herself helping us to rebuild... that we her children were healing all the scars we had left upon her surface and for once she was grateful. The Earth-spirit became the center of our belief and even after our home world was returned to health we believed it was our duty to spread that spirit and the life it carried to every world we could find."

"So now you have come to the Colonies," the clergywoman reckoned with determined ease, "hoping to convert us to your beliefs by providing for us, healing our worlds? Of course desperate souls will flock to you as you use your advance technology to rebuild while explaining it under the divine shroud of your god."

"You misunderstand," Jeanette grinned back at her, smoothing her hands over the hem of her dress as she spoke. "Gaia is merely the name of those we worship. You have gods for war, love, light, wisdom and health. We worship each individual world, believing that all have their own spirits that we must either breathe life into, nurture or restore. I am a Novice of Holy Gaia, part of the Sisterhood of the Virtuous Venus-spirit. There is also a Brotherhood to the Venus-spirit, same for the Earth-spirit, Mars-spirit, Titan-spirit... each world has its own sect all following the directions and teaching from the Guardians in the Sacred City of Los Angeles."

"Your religion is so lofty and people arrogant," Elosha gave her a lascivious look of scornfulness; "you have no hope of spreading you word in the Colonies. Our people will not be sway to your heathen ways."

"We have no intention of doing so," Sienna smiled like a Cheshire cat. "The Guardians have strict rules against preaching and proselytizing. One should never be convinced to worship or converted by the words of a bias party. Gaia cannot live in a heart that does not have all the facts. Only those that ask may be told and those with eyes may see, but never are we allowed to seek out disciples among the desperate. Those that wish can see our work and judge it worthy with their own minds to deem Gaia worthy."

"But still won't stop a few helpless," Elosha still continued her rant of self-defense, "or distributed individuals from racing to your faith. We have endured much and the Lords of Kobol have kept us strong. I doubt your faith has even been tested."

She must have finally hit a nerve, to Elosha's secret pleasure. The Novice's back arched, her eyebrows arched and her voice suddenly went low.

"Towards the final days of war with the Pryians, the enemy started to get desperate," she said, and for a second Elosha caught the gleam of tears rising in her eyes before she turned away. "They launched a bio-missiles attack on a dozen colony worlds along the front line. I was at the Sisterhood's monastery on _Talax_ and because medical training was a part of every Novice's induction the Sisterhood volunteered all six-hundred of us to help in the relief efforts. I was merely two cycles into my training, barely a Postulant, when I was assigned to rescue fleet sent to the _Bexiga_ colony, where the population had been infected by the Pyrians with Symbalene blood burn."

"A deadly and extremely contagious disease," Sienna recounted with sorrow but fury building her words, "that could kill a human in a few hours, the pathogen caused the vascular lining of their lungs to literally boil away, inducing crippling pain as you drown in your own blood. We got to the colony too late… a fourth of the one million colonists had already perished. All we could do for those left was to make them comfortable and keep them company in their final hours. Can you imagine having to watch a million die as their lungs literally pop under their own weight?"

"I was given charge of a little girl." her voice slowed, remembering the smell, the taste, the cool hospital air on her skin all those cycles ago, clutching her pray beads as she prayed over the child. "Her name was Tess'ot, she had already lost all three of her parents in the attack… but we hadn't told her yet. She kept asking me what my rosary meant so I explained Gaia to her. All life is born from the Gaia-spirits, and each life was crafted by the spirits, sent out into the world to explore and learn in ways the Gaia cannot, that a soul is housed in a physical body. Through their experiences in life and encountering other Gaia-spirits, each soul matures and grows. When the physical body dies, their mature essence, enriched by its life, returns to their home Gaia, bringing with it the experiences… enabling the Gaia to live and grow. Everything has a spirit, dogs, cats, trees, little girls, even the very planet she now dwelled on. I told her that she wasn't dying, just returning to her world's spirit. To Gaia-spirit of _Bexiga_…"

"She… uh…" Sienna stopped for a second as her voice caught, "told me that she was ready to die. She said '_I didn't have to make up stories to make her feel better_'… only seven cycles old and ready to die."

"I'm sorry," Elosha caught herself saying, though she had immense dislike for this woman... she could not feel for what she had endured.

"After that I dedicate myself to the Centralized Crisis Supervision Organization," her voice became that of determine steel as Sienna's eyes bore into Elosha, "to make sure that I can keep as many little girls from suffering like that child did. I believe it was the Gaia's will that I stayed with that youngling in her final hours so that I could never allow any Gaia to know pain like that again... to have a soul returned to them so young and in such great pain."

"Now," the woman bore a hole into Elosha's, like the dominate alpha of a pack asserting her dominance, "I am not here to preach religion but to coordinate the delivery of relief supplies through this ship and _Galactica_ on behalf of the CCSO. If you want start a theological debate we can later but in the mean time I am here for a meeting with the President."

And with that the woman turned on her heels and was off again, fuming at having her faith tested by some backwater world dweller.

* * *

From above the forest canopy, looking down the cone shaped plants, she sipped the fruit flavored drink. The sweat liquid poured down her throat, ever dropped relished and enjoyed before she re-deposited the empty glass back onto the ledge, running her fingers along the edge and delighting in the hum the crystal created.

"He's very handsome," Six commented, licking the tips of her fingers as she tried to extract a few brief tastes of her drink.

"He's a human," Five removed the binoculars he was clutching and shot her a perturbed glare. "They're nothing but mongrels. Whatever reason High Command has out here is beyond me."

"We've had little contact with humanity before the attack," the blonde draped a long leg over the edge of the spokes of the railing, trying to spy her prey. "To observe such a fine specimen of their species in a controlled field study could help explain why the Plan failed."

The clank, clang of an approaching Centurion drew their conversation to a halt. Silent and overpowering, the towering machine stood on the far-side of the balcony, its long, red eye rolling back and forth as it conveyed its silent announcement.

"Ah," Six grinned as she rolled back to playing with her glass, "the guest arrives. Show her in."

"The only reason the Colonials escaped our retribution," Five returned to his survey of their target, "is because of the efforts of those aliens. Our operatives on the Colonies are already working 'round the clock under constant threat of discovery. You should consider yourself lucky not to have been assigned to that mission like most of your sisters were."

"I'm sure you would just jump for the chance to resurrect," the female Cylon giggled at her companion. "Maybe get down and dirty with the humans.

"I prefer the clean nature of an observation port," the man grinned... a dangerous grin that unnerved even the usually aloft woman, "or an interrogation room.

"He certainly is nice to observe," Six cooed as she traced a finger across the rim of her glass.

"She says that about everyone," eyes turned towards the new arrival stepping out into the light, still clean and dressed in her flight-suit even after so long trekking through the woods.

"You disagree?" Six pouted like a small dog, trouncing her hair about.

"He's attractive," Sharon admitted as she too leaned over the length of the balcony, cleverly hidden at just the right angle to keep the wandering Colonial below clueless. "If he wants to find me, he'll head north with the Centurion tracks. If he wants to go alone, he'll go south, hoping to stay away from death. Either way, he won't make his move until nightfall."

"If he flees, he dies..."

* * *

She was cold, very cold.

Gasping for breath Boomer flashed back into life like a swimmer breaking the water's surface after a long dive. Pushing her hair back out of her face Sharon began to focus again, realizing that she was no longer in her bunk.

For a moment she had to wonder if she had been drinking, smoking anything strange or sampling any strange pills. When her list came up empty she had no idea what had happened.

Getting up was her first act, but when pain shot through her body Sharon looked down to see most of the skin missing from her legs. Crusted blood and bruised skin covered her knees and Boomer could only wonder what she had been doing to loss her skin.

Still confused and dazed Boomer moved to her locker and hauled out her duffle bag. A shower and a clean change of clothes and maybe she could remember what was going on.

Pushing open the flaps Sharon reached into the bag, Boomer came back with something that made her almost scream in terror.

A deactivated G-4 explosive clattered the floor, the black round rolling to stop on the floor.

Whatever had happened it obvious was something bad.

Several minutes later, in a crisp new uniform and clutching the duffle bag close to her, Boomer crossed the flight deck trying not to draw any attention to herself. That fail horribly when she rushed right into a collision with Specialist Cally Henderson.

"Oh," Cally recovered, "excuse me, Lieutenant?"

"Specialist," Boomer nodded, "good evening."

Her comment elicited a perplexed look from the Specialist, "Sir?"

"Is something wrong?" Boomer asked.

"No, sir," Cally shook her head, "it's just... morning, sir."

"What time is it?" Boomer pressed, confused.

"05:45," Henderson answered.

Sharon rushed off, leaving a bewilder Specialist in her wake.

Entering the small arms locker on the other side of the flight deck, Boomer punched her code into the explosive storeroom. The case swung open and Sharon quickly rushed to place the G-4 explosive back in its socket.

"Oh, my Gods! Oh, my Gods, oh, my Gods..." Boomer stammered in shock. "Where are the rest of them?"

She was correct as she found herself staring at another four empty sockets.

Whatever had happened, it definitely was good.

* * *

She rolled in her bed, for the fourth time in half an hour she found herself fighting to get comfortable and failing time after time.

After days of going without sleep or catching a few minutes of sleep in the uncomfortable leather chairs in the first class-cabin. Now she had a bed, a real king-sized cotton mattress to throw herself down in and roll around like a child but still she couldn't the right position.

If only her skin would stop crawling, like black carpenter ants marching over her bare legs. Whenever she'd turn, five, ten-minutes to start drifting off and then all of sudden she couldn't stay put.

_HISSSSS_

It was a noise, not the ruffling of herself against the sheets, or the pounding of her fists against the pillows. It was like something was in her bed... no something was in her bed.

Against her skin, against the bare flesh of her ankles something was slithering.

Fear screamed in her chest, sweat rose on her brown and for just an instance every nerve in her body was rigid in fright. Then with every ounce of her will to snap her fingers down and throw back the white satin sheets.

Snakes...

They slipped and wriggled, scaly bodies rubbing against and wrapping around the white skin of her legs... red, green, black, all colors of all kinds from her worse nightmares as a child all huddled in a heap at the end of the bed, pressed against her as if for warmth.

She tried to scream but nothing came out, a barely audible sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan escape her but nowhere near the glass shattering octave she was intending for.

Her eyes shut on instinct, trying to will away these things, trying for just one second to steady herself, regain some composure as she readied herself for a proper panic.

And then the noise was gone...

Opening her eyes, only the hem of her nightgown obscured any portion of her lower body. Neither snake nor anything else of her worse imagination was lying on the length of bed sheets tossed beside her, as if the creatures simply vanished.

Vanished like they had never been there...

"Madam President," the sound of Billy's voice along with a light tapping on the door nearly caused her to let loose that scream she had been preparing before.

"Yes?" she gasped, still trying to calm her nerves.

"You wanted me to wake you when the Hegemony representative for the civilian relief efforts was here," the young man announced through the closed door, the rapping of a foot hinted that he had already had one to many morning cups of coffee.

"Of course," she nodded to no one. "I'll be there in just a moment..."

* * *

"_At position code Deacon_," Jusi'Lada gestured at a specific point within the darkened space of the three-dimensional holo-map, "_we'll need four civilian freighter ships to use as decoys. Because they're so close to the base I suggest using the three Bishop-class crew transports the Pride of Kadesh launched before she was destroyed, along with the transport ship Prometheus_."

"They have the heaviest armor to spare but no weapons to speak of," Sim'Lonah supplied to the assembled Colonial captains.

"We'll have to remove most of their crews and relocate them to other ships," Captain Jacinto wasn't too happy with the idea.

"Other ships that are already overcrowded," Douglas Becker of the _Aether_ complained. "How many are we talking here?"

_"Bishop_-_class transports have around 400 people... each_," Jusi'lada was waiting for some serious protests but was happily surprised when none came spilling out from the convoy leaders.

"_Copernicus can take most of them,_" Sim'lohan was quick to offer up as a compromise, "but their life-support can only handle that for two days, tops."

"_Galatea_ could use the extra hands," the normally reserved Captain Mullen offered up, "as long as they're willing to help with repairs."

"_Hiigarans are a nomadic people_," Sim'lohan nodded. "_You'll find them more than happy to repair your damage and possibly anything else that may need tweaking_."

"_Great_," Jusi'lada sighed in relief that that part of the plan would so far go off without a hitch. "_The decoys will jump into the enemy star-system at extreme radar range from the Gamoray IV. Our fleet will jump in behind this debris fragment just perpendicular to them where the Jenleya, Astral Queen and the Hiigaran carrier Uasi-ita will jump here, close enough to launch it fighters at the base_."

"As soon as the decoy freighters arrive in the system," Meier's now turned to his portion of the battle planning, "they'll break wireless silence, posing as a raid on one of the outer Cylon storage facilities located in the inner orbits. We'll provide three Hiigaran fighters and a one of their support frigates to make a run towards the base to get their attention."

"The Cylons will hear the messages and send a force of _Raiders_ after them," Zarek finished up, as the map planned a miniature replay of the coming battle. "This will leave the base relatively undefended. We'll have one of the other Hiigaran ship in stealth and pre-positioned to keep an eye on the Cylons. When they move towards the decoys, our fighters will come in from behind and obliterate the base."

"Without harming the tylium ore under the surface," Captain Blanchard added with a strained look.

"Of course," Tom tried to hid some of the contempt he had at the obvious question.

"A nuke would destroy the Cylons," Maricela Gillespie explained, though she was probably a bit happy her ship the Harmony wouldn't be in this fight. "Just hit the base when we're in range and then wait for the Cylons to scatter."

"The radiation would render the ore inert!" Blanchard nearly shouted, the refinery ship captain was aghast that she would suggest such an action. "Absolutely totally unusable!"

"But refined tylium contains tremendous enthalpy," Captain Jacinto however already guessed what the battle plan was probably going to end with. "If subjected to the right heat and compression, even a conventional warhead, you should get a suitably devastating explosion without the radioactive fallout. All we have to do is hit the right spot. Specifically, you need to hit the staging tanks for the refined tylium precursor. It's a lot more unstable than the fuel itself."

"And where would they be?" Captain Becker asked. "The Cylons didn't really label their base systems when we took these pictures."

"_That'd be right there_," Sim'lonah pointed to a grouping of five long pyramid shaped buildings along the base's south flank. "_Refined tylium has a specific radiation halo that is incredibly easy to pick up over the unrefined state. Hit any one of them and the place will go up like a multi-kiloton bomb_."

"Without the base they'll be unable to rearm, refuel," Meier's grumbled under his breath.

"_And we'll mop them up_," Jusi'lada finished with.

"What happens to the crews on the decoy ships?" Captain Kramer inquired.

"_They'll keep their FTL-drives spooled up and just jump clear, first sign of trouble_," Sim'lonah described with the blinking of her helmet's mouth piece. "_The Hiigaran Firelance-class plasma cannon frigate Abaa-vo will cover them if something goes wrong_."

"Number of casualties we anticipate?" Elden Cantu of the _Adrasteia_ asked like a stoic giant.

"Among the civilian ships, low," Zarek answered him honestly. "Among our fighter pilots... it's gonna cost us."

"If you succeed," Blanchard timidly inquired, "what's to prevent the Cylons from coming back with reinforcements?"

"_Nothing_," Sim'lonah admitted in truth. "_But hopefully by then the courier drone we sent out will have reached home and called in a Space Guard warship for backup... 'til then we establish a beach-head and get to work_."

"That's putting a lot of faith in the fact that the Cylons won't retaliate for an attack on their base," the cold eyes of Captain Franks stared at the Quarian pair, the woman did not seemed convinced especially since her ship, the _Prometheus_, was going to be part of the decoy group.

"If you keep running from a schoolyard bully," Zarek stared the woman down, knowing that Franks responded to authority then compromise, "he keeps on chasing you but the moment you turn around and punch him really hard in a sensitive spot, he'll think twice about coming back again."

"So it's either this or the Colonies run out of fuel and be annihilated..."

* * *

"Get that _Raptor_ onto the lift, Commander wants all four of these in the air an hour ago!"

Turning back from a dozen deckhands pushing a _Raptor_ onto a lift, Tyrol couldn't help but stare at the Guard shuttle at the other end of the bay just arrived fresh for a meeting with Commander Adama.

Knowing Colonel Tigh had ordered them to stay at a distance; he couldn't help but be drawn closer, to stare at its crystal-white like hull as she glimmered in the bright overhead lamps.

_Wonder if I could get a look inside that engine_, he thought, knowing the Commander would never allow such a thing to happen.

Nearing the ship Tyrol's eyes were drawn away from the craft and towards the two people who stood beside her. The pilots were arm deep in a maintenance panel, pressing wires and small circuit panels aside as they chatted between one another.

Now he had an excuse to be closer as ideal talk usually was the best source of information, something he was sure the Commander would be happy to hear in case he was caught staring at the Guard transport.

"Replace the anterior impulse capacitance cell..." Captain Weirsena ordered, as the B'omar male checked the shuttle's manifest for a replacement part. "So did you hear the scuttlebutt that the Solorians are sending a dreadnaught out here?"

"Pulling anterior impulse capacitance cell check…" his feliniod Caitain copilot Lieutenant Y'caret confirmed. "Your serious right? If the Federation is going to commit even one ship then the Cylons are going to have to worry. I have a cousin who serves in the Congressional Dome in Central and yesterday she texted that the Presidential Council is about to vote about committing a fleet to this sector."

"Port plasma intercooler is clear…" Weirsena tested. "If the Federation gets involved then we could be seeing more attention from the other big founders. If the Solorians assign ships here then the Kintari are guaranteed to be sending forces and you know the Hiigarans will be putting at least a mothership on location if not more on point."

"This solar system seems to be getting more and more crowded," Y'caret mused before heading back to their work. "Give me a readout on the bussard collectors and did you hear about…"

"Uh, excuse me, chief," Tyrol nearly jumped out of his skin when Boomer walked up behind him, "a word with you, please."

Knowing something was wrong from the look in her eyes he quickly set about into his usual cover.

"Yes, sir, just one second," he nodded before he yelled one last time for good measure for the Raptor moving deckhands to stop stalling, enough of a distraction for him to return to his lovers qualms. _"_What's up?"

"Got a problem," Boomer stated simply.

Noticing several deckhands were still close by Tyrol covered again as he started to lead Sharon towards his workshop,."Well, yes, sir, lieutenant. I believe the navcon modules are ready for inspection."

Inside the cramped and cluttered tool room Sharon almost immediately began to hyper ventilate in anguish as Tyrol tried to console her.

"Whatever it is," he said trying to calm her, "we're gonna take care of it, okay? Alright? Now, tell me what happened. What's going on?

"There are, at this moment," Boomer explained, breathing slowly through her teeth to keep from hyperventilating, "six G-4 detonators missing from the small arms locker on deck fifteen."

"What are you telling me for?" Tyrol stammered at the implication, "Munitions go missing, you gotta go tell the master-at-arms, right now."

That miss-step in logic only seemed to anger Boomer.

"I know that!" she roared.

"Sharon," Tyrol pressed further, grinding the point home in desperation, "you can't screw around with stuff like this-"

"I'm not screwing around, okay?" Boomer said. "The only reason I didn't tell anybody is because they're gonna think I'm the one who took them! I took the one detonator from the duffel, replaced it, and then went back to my quarters."

"Well, ah... you know what?, you know what? It's not your fault," Tyrol tried to rationalize. "Someone's obviously setting you up to take the fall for something, that's what it is! I mean, you wake up somewhere, you don't know how you got there or anything. You're drugged or manipulated. Or who knows what, something."

"What do we do?" Sharon asked desperately. "Cause if I report what's happened, they're gonna think I'm a Cylon agent."

"No, they're not," Tyrol dispelled that idea, "No, no, no, why would they think that? That's crazy.

"People are getting crazy," Sharon yelled, "You've heard the rumors, people going crazy during the attack, screaming they were Cylons... killing themselves and everyone around them... what if I'm going crazy?"

"Well handle, it okay," Tyrol comforted her, but no matter how many ways he put it, he was afraid. Not of where those detonators had gone but what his lover could be.

* * *

"_Virgon_ still refuses to allow civilian ships to land!" Roslin pounded her fists on the desk-top, her cup of steaming coffee nearly toppling from the edge under the vibration of the sudden impact. "Considering she has the second largest refugee fleet in her orbit, not only can't we afford to jump them to another Colony without additional fueling but we can barely land half on _Virgon_ with the fuel remaining. Until the tylium crisis is resolved _Virgon_ has to keep those ships but King Kumara is refusing."

Across the desk from her, Novice Jeanette Sienne leaned back in her chair and even Laura couldn't miss how the woman's long legs were much nicer looking then whatever she sported during her younger years.

A short pang of jealousy flashed in her mind for just an instance but Laura squashed it in an instance.

"In our dealings with other races," Jeanette spoke in long and elegant words, evidence of her extensive diplomatic training, "there has always been some point of reference, a commonality to anchor our self to as we work towards a set goal. It's just a matter to discover that with Kumara and then we can start moving towards resolution."

"Easier said than done," Roslin mumbled, snatching up her nearly split cup and taking a quick sip. "The man refuses to listen to anything we have to offer... but _Virgon_ has the largest amount of industrial and civilian infrastructure surviving the attack. If we have any hope of rebuilding the Colonies in less than a millennium, then we need their support. What I wouldn't give right now for the Quorum, at least then I have an elected representative yelling at me and not some self-appointed bully!"

"King Kumara has been unwilling to listen to anyone of non-Virgonese descent," her Hegemony diplomatic liaison commented as she scrolled through her own report on the situation, "with a particular grudge against _Caprica_. He has however been receptive to the Hegemony, most likely he's afraid we could bomb him back to the stone-age in ten-minutes. We could easily that fear to send in mediator a between you two."

"Doable," the President nodded in agreement, though the solution wasn't as satisfying as she'd hoped. "Yet that still leaves me with the problem of a Colonial world refusing a direct order from the President. _Virgon_ claims that until a new Quorum and President are elected, then they will not recognize the Twelve Colonies as a legitimate authority."

"Then the first thing we do is find something we common," Jeanette offered up to appease the frazzled woman. "Something to establish as a common ground."

"We can communicate," Laura answered, though had to quickly amend herself. "Barely..."

"You'll be delighted to know," Sienna grinned back at her with those pearly white teeth, "that when the Hegemony encounters a new race we have several ways in which to open up dialogue. There is the use of a base-translation package, which includes a sampling of all languages we have encountered, inter-lac which can include mathematic and prime numbers... but there are few universal languages and they can never truly apply to every sentient race."

"_Virgon_ has had a long standing feud with _Caprica_," Roslin explained for the Novice's benefit, "since we were the elite worlds before the attack. How possibly did the Hegemony gain so many member worlds so quickly if communication is such a problem?"

"The fact that any alien race communicates is quite remarkable," the female responded, "when you consider the shear impossibilities."

Reaching forward, Jeanette plucked the President's coffee cup from the desk.

"We are stranded on a deserted island, no language in common what so ever, but I want to teach you mine." With the mug in hand, she toasted to Laura before her voice suddenly switched into a series of eloquent words inter-sliced with a flood of rapid clicks. "_Soljata.._. What did I just say?"

"Cup?" Laura immediately answered but the unwavering stare she received back made her believe her answer wasn't as correct as she'd believe. "Glass... drink... mug?

"Are you sure?" Jeannette smirked before placing the container back down. "I might have meant liquid, clear, brown, hot. We conceptualize the universe in mostly similar ways as we are both the same species but that is where it can get dicey. The most read book on Earth four-thousand cycles ago was a holy religious book called the Christian Bible. At the time it was translated into over two-thousand different languages. Even though humanity now all share a unified language called Solfrish, the coupling of the ancient English, Arabic and Chinese languages into one, there are still five-hundred thousand dialects and half a million more native languages that have evolved on our colonies. I am from the Gaia Sisterhood on _Venus_, where the natives speak a combination of ancient Spanish and Zulu called Ventusian. But I was born on the Federation colony of _Nsiamfumu_ where Swahili and Serbian have merged to create my native tongue of Siamit. Humanity is just one race but we've continued to invent new languages as the centuries progressed."

"Point taken," Laura sighed as she threw herself back into the comfortable leather chair she had snagged from the cargo hold. "But then how do you communicate with other races?"

"Telepaths," the look the older woman shot her was a definitive hint that psychics were not common or heard of on the Colonies. "Minder readers would really help in this situation. While language may vary, we have discovered that nearly every organic brain evolves towards sentience along a set path of rules. And those that are attuned to read the minds of others can pick up on that."

"But surely if you speak another language," the Colonial head of state wondered, "you'd think in it to... Wouldn't you?"

"You'd assume so," Sienna agreed before starting to continue, "but how does your brain function before you are taught a language?"

"As infants its repeated in front of us over and over again," Laura found that answer a bit too easy to come up with and already knew the young Novice was going to enlighten her.

"But before that what do we do?" Jeannette pressed her for something more specific.

"We babble and speak non-sense," she shrugged, trying to think of the times when she had had to deal with infants in her younger years, babysitting her siblings and neighbor's kids for extra allowance.

"No," the Novice contradicted her answer, "we speak what our mind speaks. Newborns are not talking in gibberish but an innate thought process that is natural in all intelligent beings. It's only because their parents drill another language into them is why they adapt and then forget."

"Like how a small child can learn a new language much faster than an adult?" Laura was now starting to catch on.

"Exactly," Sienna bobbed her head in agreement. "It all actually comes down to the laws of psychics and evolution. Even if the universe is infinite there is a very finite way in which organic life can evolve to sentience and one of those is the way the intelligent brain can operate. While you don't speak the same language as your brain, it's been hardwire to and its fairly easy to take those words are merely translated in your psyche. Telepaths can gain access to the unfiltered words, establishing the one true common language among organics, the Rosetta Stone if you would."

"Fascinating," Laura nodded, though she had no idea what a Rosetta Stone was. "But do you think you could use a few of those mind-readers on Kumari?"

"I could go personally if you like," Jeanette offered with a bow.

"You're a telepath?" Roslin was a bit shocked, since in the Colonies most oracles, soothsayers and self-proclaimed psyches were either con-artiste or high on some sort of medication and were only believed by the most devotedly religious.

"Psi-rating P2... very low level," the woman shrugged it off in a small attempt at modesty. "Psyonics is random occurring part of the human genome for our entire evolution. It only began to become mainstream when we realized that many of those we institutionalized, medicated or falsely imprisoned were really psychic in one form or another."

"Schizophrenics could be psychic?" Laura found the idea almost laughable, as most anyone would regard a man muttering to himself to be completely off his rocker.

"You hear voices, what is the first conclusion most people draw?" her head snapped up as Jeanette seemed to have picked up on her recent thoughts. "People that were once thought to be pyromaniacs were instead found to be precognitive, with a predisposition vision for future disasters. Since fires are more common then buildings toppling or ships sinking, who do you think they blame when the police show up to a burning building and the first person on scene is an individual who '_saw_' the fire before it happened? After some serious efforts it was found that 5-percent of the population was psychic in one form or another. Genetic testing for psyonics is common among newborns and we now number over 50-billion, most tending to either orient towards low-level precognition or empathy, generally a psi-rating of P5 or below. Barely 3-percent rate any higher but you still can find many P6 to P14 with telekinesis, telepathy or clairvoyance... I wouldn't be surprised if similar traits are also present among the Colonies."

"We can run a check later," Roslin however did find the idea honestly intriguing.

"Yes," Jeanetta nodded. "In the meantime I would like another _soljata_ of coffee before we get back to work."

* * *

_Galactica_ was not a luxury liner, so he was designed more for fighting then leisure. The one prime issue was that she lacked anything like windows. With the consent threat of battle damage a walls of glass was just too dangerous to have all over the ship, the chance of a hull breach increased sharply.

But knowing that sitting inside a tin can for years at a time with just gray metal walls to stare at could drive any officer to madness, the designers had allowed a few observation ports to be built.

Right now with the heated activity of trying to survive the room was empty, most dedicated officers were knee deep in a dozen different jobs just to keep the ship from flying apart at the seams.

However there was one person using it...

Below him he could see the full length of the starboard flight-pod spread before her. From atop his position on the bow, he could easily see the repair ships moving over the hull, ripping up the scorched black metal and with dozens of surgical robotic arms, replacing them with brand new ones at mind blogging speeds. Coasting between them _Raptors_ flashed their search lights over the hull, offering more illumination for the space-suit clad workers operating in the vacuum of the void. Occasionally an atmospheric shuttle would land, carrying civilian workers to the still functional and pressurized portions of the flight-pod for internal work and repairs.

It was a buzzing hive of activity.

No one would notice if one officer was missing from the corps, if the chapel wasn't being manned... that one clergyman holding a G-4 detonator and staring at down at the work in the distance.

* * *

"South," Five grumbled as he brought the binoculars down from his eyes and turning to regard the two women standing beside him in the setting evening sun. "You overestimated his willingness to risk himself for you."

"He just doesn't love you," Six pouted in disappointed. "Too bad, he was so handsome."

But Boomer just continued to watch the human.

Even at this extreme distance it was easy to make out Helo trying to transverse the rocky bed of a dry river. The ECO was taking his footsteps lightly, as any slip could leave him in serious trouble. Any broken bone without even the most basic medical care could become septic and fatal.

_Come on Helo_, she found herself rooting him on amongst her own thoughts, _turn around... don't get yourself killed_.

She stopped herself from leaning forward, from trying to hint in any way that she wanted him to change his course. Because something on the inside of her desperately wanted him to come to her... something just desperately wanted him to just look in her direction.

And then he did...

He couldn't see her, the observation post was too well camouflaged... but somehow Sharon still felt the blood boil in her veins and her face go flushed when Helo suddenly frozen in mid-stride and turned his head to stare directly towards her.

"Wait," Six caught it too as the voluptuous women draped herself over the railing like a longing cat. "He's turned around."

"North," Five confirmed after a quick glance to make sure the Colonial was moving in the direction they wanted, "toward his love Seems you made an impression after all."

"He's a good man," she said without really knowing what was coming out of her mouth. "He always does the right thing... that's why we chose him out of all the other specimens we took."

"He is fortunate," the only male Cylon nodded. "One out of three hundred is a startling success. But are you prepared for the next step?"

"Yes," she answered, but never taking her eyes off Helo... not even when Six clocked her across the face with enough force to knock her to the concrete ground.

"Is that enough?" she asked, still not looking at the two other Cylons as she tasted cooper spilling into her mouth.

"No," Six stepped over her, staring down at her with a broad smile. "Sharon wouldn't give up without a much harder fight..."

* * *

The corridor was small and cramped... but quiet.

Comparable to the other sections of the flight-pod, this was one portion of the ship that was a dead end, leading out from an undamaged section, along the undamaged hull and ending in an undamaged dead end.

Petty Officer James Olsson whipped a rag out of his belt and scrapped it over his head, trying to clear the hydraulic fluid off his face. Without ever opening his eyes, he slammed the circuit box next to him close and tossed the saudering iron on the floor to cool. He was just finished the last portion his rewiring for this area, hopefully once he got back downstairs he'd be able to link some power back up here to actually light the hallway.

He turned to leave... when a sound caught his ears.

Years of working around roaring engines and heavy machinery had left him with very acute hearing, so when a whine of some mechanical nature started to echo from the undercarriage of one of the nearby crates he had to investigate... or down farther into the service crawl space beside it.

Crouching down he worked into the tiny vein in the ship's hull, where the sound was the loudest. It was cold and dark, this close to the outer hull heat bled off quickly and it sent a chill down your skin. With the sweat already on his skin, it felt like a sharp pain on the skin of his bare hands and face.

But he found the nose... or rather a small floor panel it seemed to be coming from. Reaching into his tool belt we extracted a pair of pliers and started to unhinge the service panel, working the screws out and then prying the covering back.  
Surprisingly it came loose and Olsson had to curse those lazy deck hands for being so loss in their duty. The worn nature of the ship told him that the panel was ancient but the disturbed dust around him meant that someone had been through here recently.

_Probably one of the small decommissioning crew_, he thought to himself with a bitter smirk, _if you're going into the museum, you don't need to received the finest of care_.

Pushing a handful of wires out of the way he stared into the mess of circuitry, searching for what was peaking his interest... and what he found made him go white in fear.

James Olsson had just enough time to scream as the G-4 explosive detonated just a foot from his face...

* * *

"Are you positive of this?" Vonaka tossed the flexi onto the conference table with a fair about of displeasure at its contents.

"_Most certainly_," Alli nodded as she sat atop the table, even if her holo-form had no weight or substance to actually touch the surface it was a good imitation. "_The signal maybe on a Colonial transceiver but it is cycling on a Cylon frequency. I think it is one of the sleeper agents the mechaniods seeded through the Colonial population_."

"I thought you deactivated them?" Upsalon said from beside Volaska, still reading the finer details of her assessment.

"_I corrupted the programming but underestimated the Cylon's programming prowess_," the AI admitted with a shrug of disinterest. "_It wasn't enough to resurrect the entire system but one or two agents could have been reconnected. I believe that someone onboard Galactica maybe this agent_."

"Then we should inform Commander Adama immediately," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss announced.

"That could be a problem," Vonaka grumbled. "The Colonials are recovering from a massive nuclear holocaust, an attempted genocide. While Commander Adama and the President are aware of the humanoid Cylons, they do not know every model. We have no right to expose them if they do not consciously pose a threat. But we can't leave the dangerous one's running around. Alli can you get a fix on that signal, find the agent and block it from further programming and orders?"

"_The way that Six has described the sleeper agent process to me_," Alli referred to the woman below decks that was still recovering in sickbay from a concussion, "_is that a Cylon ship transmits the orders, the moment the conscious mind registers its alone the sleeper persona takes over. The mission it was ordered to perform is completed and the active personality takes over. In essence if we can already block the initiating signal we can protect the sleeper from being buried for the agent. But I say we need to move one step further_."

Vonaka knew Alli too well and even if she was incapable facial cues or emotions he could tell where this conversation was heading even if her vocal processors hadn't said it yet. "You want to cut the signal at its source?"

"_Precisely_," the AI replied. "_But I have no way to track a signal over such extreme distances_."

"We could perform a tomographic imagining scan," Thamos theorized. "The multiphasic resolution could triangulate significant amounts of subspace interference created by the jumping ships.

"Too bad we don't have an entire battle armada to cover every square sector of the system," Vonaka added.

"_Which would also ruin the chances of using a tachyon detection grid since active tachyon beams would have to be transmitted between more than a hundred ships_," Alli added. "_We barely have half that_."

"A multiphasic sweep of the surrounding space," Upsalon proposed, "by modifying navigational sensors to operate on a multiphasic bandwidth, would be capable of penetrating intense electromagnetic radiation as well as ion interference."

"_Won't do much good since this is a trinary solar system_," Alli countered. "_The conflicting magnetic fields will render the scan inert_."

It was just that second that Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss had a ray of brilliance. "We could use the _Brattain Array_," she announced.

"And how would the main communication array for the local stellar cluster, help us find a bunch of Colonial ships?" Upsalon asked.

"When any ship activates a FTL jump, they release exotic particles into the surrounding space as they fold the space-time continuum in on itself" Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss explained, bringing up a diagram of the outpost up on her own holo-screen. "Those particles are unique to only that drive, so each ship is different. So if we knew the exact frequency their drives resonate at, we can scan the surrounding space and find a similar pattern. The _Brattain Array_ has specifically attuned sensors meant to trace those particles to keep track of different ships and communicate orders to them."

"So if we send a sample to _Brattain_ they can use their scanners and find the Cylons," Upsalon finished the theory in excitement.

"Brilliant work Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss," Volaska congratulated. "Contact _Brattain_ immediately!"

More than two-thousand light-cycles away a very tired Lieutenant Tlas Kziethna activated his holo-screen to find a smiling elf on the other end.

"Why if it isn't Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss," the Torian tried to manage a laugh, his green pupil lacking eyes bouncing up and down. "What could a lowly station master do for the wonderful communication officer of the 95SpineαǼ?"

"_Sorry to wake you, Tlas_," she apologized, "_but we need your help with something_."

"Wake me!" the green skinned amphibian giggled at the shear humor of her comment, "who can sleep with the ruckus you people are making over there. You've managed to get everyone in the entire Magellanic Cloud up and running around... plus a good portion of the Milky Way bouncing off the walls."

"_Glad to hear we're not forgotten out here_," the woman grinned at the way he phrased the situation.

"Like we could," Tlas laughed in a jovial tone. "I'm fielding channels from over two hundred ship's... all wanting to get a piece of the action your lots hoarding, while _Stellar Command_ is wanting updates every second. I can sleep when I'm dead, now what do you need?"

"I'm sending you a sample of several different drive particles from a Cylon fleet that could be on silent running near the Cyrannus sector."

"And you want me to use our tracking sensors to find the engines that expelled them," even if the man's eyes lacked any discernible pupil, they grew five sizes as he realized her plan. "Brilliant! Ok, I'm receiving that sample and entering the patterns into the computer. Correlating... _CONTACT_! Long-range sensors are transfixing it now. Routing the information to you."

"_Got it, our sensors have them_," the communication officer nodded after a pause.

"Happy hunting Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss," the Torian nodded. "_Brattain Array_ out."

A small stellar cartography holo-screen appeared before the young woman, the screen dove inward, revealing what was hiding among the sector's sparse surroundings.

"This is spacial quadrant 125ΏΌ654 and right about here..." Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss reported as a tight cluster of flashing icons blossomed onto the screen, "is the Cylon fleet that attacked the Colonies."

"Spatial quadrant 125ΏΌ654 is only three light-cycles away," Vonaka asked, to which Alli nodded, displaying the thin territorial line of the Hegemony and the fact that the Cylon fleet was inside their boundaries by only one light cycle. "That isn't far from the position of 21st Delta Lambda Core Defense Brigade?"

"_Affirmative_," Alli confirmed as she brought up a fleet breakdown of the 21ΔΛCoreD. "_They're supposed to be patrolling the space between here and our own colonies_."

"Contact their commanding officer" the admiral ordered with a dark flash of his deadly canines. "Tell them to get ready to oust an intruding and hostile nation from our territory."

"_Message transmitted_," the AI confirmed after a slight beep confirmed the message drone had been deployed. "_Estimated time of arrival is one hour_-"

Her program suddenly froze in mid-sentence, several holo-screens quickly flashed before in her in quick succession as a dozens of new equations and figures scrolled over her translucent form.

"Alli," Vonaka asked in concern. "Report!"

"_Explosion on Galactica_," she announced as a miniature hologram of the _Battlestar_ flashed in above the table. "_Critical damage to starboard flight-pod... and its spreading_..."

* * *

"Decompression alarm!" Kelly screamed as the deck gave a violently tilt. "Sector 7B, aft access-way!"

"Damage report!" Adama roared, ducking his head as several overhead lights blew out from the feedback of energy.

"Hull breach!" the man declared as dozens of officers shouted out reports and damage assessments. "Section six, junction H of the starboard flight-pod... breach in section eight... ten... we have explosive decompression along the entire starboard flight-pod."

"Critical strain on the entire super structure," Tigh shouted over the chaos. "They're gonna blow one after another."

"Order a full evacuation," the Commander declared over the insanity and mayhem that was consuming his command. "Tell the repair ships to veer away, starboard."

"Evacuation for flight-pod is impossible," Kelly leaned over the edge of his station. "Explosion took out access arm two... everyone inside that section is dead or dying."

"Link up a feed to external cameras on the _Anchorage_," Adama ordered as his eyes shot up to the overhead dradis column. "Lemme see what's happening!"

The dradis screens winked out in quick succession, instead and downward view from the top of the space station gave them all a direct glance down... and at the pandemonium before them.

Across the entire length of the starboard flight-pod the hull was aflame, violently atmosphere breaches erupted in six different locations, free floating metal drifted off in all directions... a brutal explosion plumed from just behind the portion of the hull on the underside of the flight-pod.

Cracks were already forming in the structure as the damage started to spread.

"Order all ships to break now!" Adama shouted.

Two flattop construction ships, the _Carina_ and _Virgon Express_, detached their locks on the hull. Scaffoldings extended from both vessels broke apart as long beams snapped like twigs. Several shuttles raced after them... one none too lucky was struck by one of those shattered scaffolding and detonated under the impact.

A supply transport, the christened name _Cearillian Trader_ scrawled down its side, rocketed free of the airlock it had been attacked to... unfortunate that the captain of the vessel failed to unlock from its link with _Galactica_. The much stronger combat armor of the _Battlestar_ held tight and when the _Cearillian_ _Traider's_ engines flare at full burn it kept its grip on the ship's airlock and the entire port side of the craft as the rest fragmented free.

Out of control it banked to its left and smashed right into the already compromised flight-pod hull... furthering the damage.

Before the eyes of the entire CIC staff the starboard flight-pod crumpled and collapsed, its entire integrity dissolving and chunks rippling free as every soul that could fled the decimated _Battlestar_.

"Explosive decompression in frame six..." Kelly's voice continued to ring out as disaster reports continued to announce, "nine... fifteen..."

"She's going to break her spine..." Tigh muttered as he held tight to the navigation plotting table as the deck continued to rock under their feet.

"Sir," Dualla now joined the clamoring of voiced echoing around them. "I have Space Guard vessel approaching rapidly from aft. She's ordering the _Anchorage_ to break us free and to hold position!"

"What the hell is she thinking?" Saul gave him a sidelong glance.

"I don't know," Adama shook his head as he watched the destruction spread. "Tell all hands to brace for emergency decoupling and firing of all port thrusters.

"Aye, sir," Dualla nodded so fast the headset around her head nearly fell free as she activated the internal PA systems. "_All hands, all hands brace for immediate decoupling_."

Outside, opposite the ravaged side of the _Battlestar_, the three massive airlocks attaching the vessel to the central column of the great space station retracted one after another. As they pulled back and into the safety of the great metal structure, white hot maneuvering fired at full burn.

Six around each of the massive access ports, they throttled the great ship aside with astounding ease, pushing _Galactic_ free from the spinning rings of the Anchorage and into the open space above _Caprica_.

"Space Guard vessel approaching on vector seven by six by nine," Dualla stated as she quickly relayed information back and forth across the ship.

"Coming in a bit fast don't you think?" the Colonel commented as he watched the returned dradis screens on the central column.

"Hegemony hasn't let us down yet," Adama however didn't seem too convinced by his own explanation.

"Sir," Anastasia expressed in deep concern, "communication coming in from Guard vessel."

"Put it on," Adama indicated.

"_This is Captain Botha of the Lancer's Hope_," a clicking voice chirped over the loudspeakers positioned around CIC. "_Maintain position and prepare to be taken abroad_."

"Taken aboard?" Saul wondered out loud.

"Wonder what their planning?" Adama agreed with him...

* * *

_Under the Night_ drifted in the endless clouds of dusts, a whale in an ocean of nothing. Behind her the rest of the 21st Delta Lambda Core Defense Brigade floated in a loose gaggle, fighters and drones sprinting between the total twenty one ships as they pushed through the powder.

21ΔΛCoreD Brigade had only been a recent addition to the region, barely two days old. After the recent fighting in Cyrannus only three light cycles away, _Magellanic Stellar Command_ had ordered all ships not on mission critical patrols to be moved into a blockade around the Colonial system. This was to prevent the possibility of a Cylon _Baseship_ fleeing the nearby sector from deciding to take some pot shots at a defenseless colony or wayward transport.

However Captain T'netni Lanimirc wanted nothing to do with patrol duty, especially since the _Night_ was suppose to be doing some serious overhaul time after a two-cycle mission to survey the entire rim of the Large Magellanic Cloud. His heavy battle cruiser had been called to duty just as she was pulling into _Tortora Station_.

But now a recent communication from the 95SpineαǼ's core AI had changed all that.

"Size and disposition of the fleet?" Lanimirc asked, swiveling his command chair to regard the hologram behind him, eager at the idea of combat.

"_Alli's message_," Lucas, the _Night's_ core AI, responded, crossing his arms, "_details 89 Basestars, two Resurrection Ships, six thousand Raiders and 20 support ships, estimated threat level minimal_."

"Can you confirm this is the fleet that attacked the Colonies?" asked the XO, Commander Smitciv Olaiceps.

"Several of the _Baseships_," Tactical Specialist Lieutenant Yruj Tiart reported, detailing several ships inside the holo-space of the SIT with evident damage, "are leaving a trail of decaying neutrino ions, concurrent with damage done by plasma based weaponry. This is definitely the retreating fleet from Cyrannus."

"Then form up the flotilla," Lanimirc commanded, "We're going hunting."

"_Alert…alert_…," the voice of Communications officer Ensign Seldoon Esenihc barked loudly over the ship's PA, "_all hands to battle stations… all hands to battle stations…this is not a drill…prepare for combat jump in one minute_."

Throughout the ship the four-thousand crewmen of the _Night_ jumped into action, engineers began running simulations, deck hands and pilots began loading fighters, soldiers started to take grab their rifles and gunnery crews started to load their cannons.

"Prepare a series of tachyon disruption drones for launch the moment we finish transition," Lanimirc said. "I don't want them running."

"Understood," Olaiceps said as he prepared the necessary weapons load out for combat.

"_Fleet reports condition blue_," Lucas announced, "_simultaneous jump in thirty second_."

"Spinning up FTL coils," Lieutenant Tara Butters responded as she began pushing the _Night_ to full thrust from her post at the navigation station.

"Full spreads of TD drones are in the tubes," Tiart confirmed, "offensive salvo locked and loaded."

"_Jump in five_," Lucas began counting down as the crew started to brace themselves, "_four, three, two… jumping_."

* * *

Across the dwindling void the _Lancer's Hope_ shot forward, the great long tube, shaped like a hexagon, pressed her engines to the breaking point as she brought herself into linear alignment with the great Colonial warship.

"Keep us on line of sight approach, Yang," Captain Botha yelled as he felt the engines again compensate, trying to keep the massive vessel in position with the spinning craft.

"Aye, sir," Lieutenant Yang nodded as she adjusted the holographic controls to keep control of the situation. "_Galactica_ is one thousand meters and closing."

"_Critical damage to starboard flight-pod_," Jerrod walked around the transparent icon of the vessel they were rushing to the rescue of inside the SIT. "_Battlestar is venting atmosphere at dangerous levels and explosive decompressions have ruptured the central hull in eight key sectors_."

"General space traffic has cleared the area," Major Zimmerman announced as he pressed an ear-pod against his head. "My _Galactica_ counterpart has confirmed they are prepared for us."

"_Disaster relief and emergency crews are standing by_," the AI proclaimed as the ship on his screens drew closer and closer. "_Distance at three hundred meters and closing_."

"Open forward hangar," Botha watched the entire approach with bated concern and eager interest of the potential adventure they were enjoying. "AG-field to full retraction. Start to reel here in, Jerrod."

_Galactica_ was over 1,400-meters long, compared to the approaching starship it was an ant. The _Bison_-class mobile shipyard, at over 4,000-meters in length, was a thunderous, hulking creation that moved with its great engines all firing as one.

Life a giant honeycomb, the forward hang ar broke open with a grand iris sliding free. Like a shark consuming a fish, she swallowed the _Battlestar_ right up. Even before the hangar doors were slamming shut fire drones were launched in rapid succession, dousing the raging fires with ammonium phosphate to choke the oxygen away while five long holding arms detached directly from above and below to secure the vessel in place with magnetic and anti-gravity fields.

As atmosphere began to seep in and the smoking columns began to glow like last-night embers on the campfire across her pot-marked hull, rescue ships began to rush forward to help the stricken craft.

"_Locking down ship_," Jerrod reported finally as two-thousand engineers and shipwrights set to work. "_Anti-gravity fields are active at full. Atmosphere being fed into main hangar now_."

"Secure the _Battlestar_ and find out what the hell happened..."

* * *

Lights flashed as the four ships folded back into normal space, engines quickly flaring to life to steady the troop within the surging gravity of the asteroid belt.

"_Ore flight November is jump status green_," the _Bishop_-class crew transport _Noo-vab_ reported as she coasted in behind her sister ships _Saroo-lat_ and _Aleca-naad._

"_Confirming November_," Captain Franks' voice chittered over the wireless as the _Prometheus_ rolled overhead of the _Saroo-lat_. "_Ore flight Wilco, is launching raiding squadrons_."

From the underbelly of _Aleca-naad_, an I-beamed shaped supported ship rushed free from the transport. Accelerating to nearly 450-meters per second, the large _Matriarch_-class support frigate throttled towards the distant moon, its iron gray hull and orange running strips glittered in the golden sun of _Gamoray_.

Surrounding the frigate in a dense sphere formation of _Acolyte_ heavy fighters, each of their twin under wing cannons holding a long missile hard-point onto the slow but heavily armored ship. Six all together, they held close to their larger counterpart as they kept ready for any possible Cylon strike.

"_Strike Beta is away_," _Noo-vab_ confirmed as the four civilian ships began to slowly follow after their raiding force, waiting for the worse to come as they began their raid. "_Accelerating to full attack speed_."

Several hundred thousand kilometers away, in the shadow of one of the larger shards of the moon, ears listened intently to the chatter between the captains, all anticipating the next move.

"Dradis reports nothing but hash," Meier commented as he watched the blank screens, only their own fleet floating in the black-digital space. "Can't make out a thing."

"_We are now within launch range of the Cylon base's theorized sensor range_," Sim'lonah nodded beside him, though psychically the Quarian was still standing on the bridge of the _Jenleya_ and simply transmitting herself onto the _Astral Queen_ by a holo-projector.

"You can bet they heard that," Zarek watched the screens intently, waiting for the inevitable engagement to erupt. "Zeus is about to topple Mount Olympus. Now they'll try to locate the decoys..."

"_Astral Queen_," Sim'lonah suddenly seemed alarmed as her body projected an rigid stance. "_The Cylons have seen the freighter. They're en route to intercept. Confirming ninety to one hundred signatures approaching_."

"They took the bait," Zarek nodded as the Cylon base had suddenly come alive like a kicked bee hive, a angry horde of _Raiders_ now surging out to attack. "Launch strike group one."

"_Attention cargo bay_," Meier's voice chattered over the inter-comms as below deck ten suited officers rushed towards their waiting birds. "_Pilots, man your planes. Pilots, man your planes_!"

Down on the deck, Jusi'lada threw her restraints over her shoulders and began to power up her fighter, an old style _Blade_-class interceptor, making sure the locking gauges on her twin rotary cannon on the nose of her ship was clear and ready for some action.

"_How hard did they bite_?" she yelled across the bay to her copilot, Nahs'traat nar Jeleya as he began to prep his own ship.

"_Captain report said ninety plus_," Nahs'traat grinned, even if his lips were unnoticeable behind the purple mask. "_They've launched most of their fighter force_."

"_Keelah_," Jusi'lada laughed. "_This will be as fun as the time we ousted those Judoon squatters from Ayya II_..."

* * *

Tyrol thanked every Lord of Kobol he knew for small favors.

He never would have guessed for a second that he would be walking across the landing deck of the starboard flight-pod with nothing but the clothes on his back. Usually when he was in this exact spot he was in a space suit, bulky and cumbersome, to knock out the dents created by untrained rookies.

This... this was just an deck chief's dream come true... being able to walk across his ship's hull... it was amazing.

"CIC," Tyrol tabbed the radio on his belt, "this is damage control o ne. We're entering the access-way now."

"_Roger that, DC One_," Dualla's voice chirped back to him as he continued his tour of the decimated flight-pod.

"_Raptor 478_, it's DC One," he grabbed his radio again as he marched along the deck, avoiding the many holes left from hours before. "I have you in my sights."

_"Copy that, DC One_," Boomer's voice however didn't come back over the radio from the _Raptor_ hovering over them, but instead over an external PA linked up between the two. "_I have you in sight_."

"Understood," he nodded as he moved onto to several of his investigation crews, intermixed Colonial and Space Guard engineers.

"_How's it look in there_?" Sharon inquired from above, keeping her ship in position directly above the Chief. "_Can you tell what happened_?"

"Lieutenant, don't worry," he grinned up at the drifting _Raptor_, before he quickly covered his comment with professionalism. "Worry... about my team... I got things under control."

"_Copy that, DC O ne_," Sharon confirmed just as cool as his voice was. "_I feel better knowing you're o n it_."

"Chief, take a look at this," Tyrol turned around from his view to see Cally handing him a chunk of burned and broken metal she had picked out from the particular piece from the deck.

"What do you got?" he asked, turning the former piece of the deck over and over in his worn, calloused fingers.

"Not sure," the young girl offered up, almost hopeful... that he'd notice her discovery. "It looks like burn marks from an explosive. What do you think?"

"It's, um..." something flashed over his features, Cally caught it for a second and then it was gone, "tough... tough to tell, it's pretty rusted out..."

* * *

"Jump complete!" Tara announced as the _Night_ transitioned back into normal space.

"Beginning active sensor ping," Tiart rang out as the SIT began to fill with numerous icons. "I am detecting the Cylon fleet along with one large construct. Lack of engine assembly and stationary appearance along with a high level of comm traffic leads me to believe it is a communications relay."

"Launch tachyon disruptors and deploy fighters," Lanimirc ordered. "I don't want them getting lose. Fire off high-bandwidth jammers to cut off the comm relay, I don't want them calling for help."

Dislodging the sixty probes from its forward missile tubes, the _Night_ remained still as the hawk shaped drones hummed out to surround the fleet. Keeping out the weapons range of drones quickly skirted the edge of the battlefield before they finally came to a stop.

Tachyon disruptors were one of the greatest inventions the Hegemony had acquired from its member worlds. Developed by the Deshak Kingdom, they had originally been meant simply as a planetary tectonic stabilizer but instead the Deshak created the first true FTL jammer... after it was found that no ship could jump out of their homeworld's orbit.

While it was useless to prevent inbound jumps, it was enough to stop forming space-time continuum folds, literally plugging any hole a jumping ship tried to tear through the fabric of existence. By flooding the local space with anti-tachyons the drive simply went inactive, effectively halting all forms of faster-than-light jumps.

And that is what the Cylon ships discovered when they tried to run and their drives simply refused to respond.

"_Shade_ and _Crossroads_ are launching squadrons," Olaiceps announced as the fleet's two fighter carriers, the _Whiter Shade of Pale_ and _Crossroads of the Soul_ hung back to initiate launch procedures. "Three hundred fighters are going into the air."

"Deploy fleet into three combat groups and a fast response unit," T'netni ordered. "_Heart_, _Divide_ and _Suffer_ take point and _Heaven_ is on quick reaction."

The _Heart for Falsehood Framed, Abridging the Devil's Divide _and _Suffer The Children_ were three battleships in the 21ΔΛCoreD, each charged with a group of two other ships, either corvettes or destroyers, to lead into combat while the warship _Between Heaven _lead a frigate flotilla to intercept any escaping _Basestars_.

"Fleet leaders are breaking up, _Heart_ is leading _Sympathy_ and _Kingdom_," Tiart announced as the _Heart_ lead the destroyer _Sympathy For the Deep_ and corvette _Keys to the Kingdom_ to bank to port, "_Divide_ is with _Shadow_ and _Exodus_," the icons of the _Divide_ with its escorts, the destroyers _Exodus from Genesis_ and _Knight of Shadows_ raced to starboard, "_Suffer_ is paired with _Angel_ and _Cloak_," the _Suffer_ moved off with the corvettes _Revenging Angel_ and _Under the Cloak of War_ in tow toward the combat zone's northern pole, "and frigates have split to circle the Cylon armada."

"Tell them to target combatants only," Olaiceps organized. "_Resurrection Ships_ are off-limits. Everything else is fair game."

"All ships, all ships," Seldoon pressed the communication pod into his ear as the warships and fighters acknowledged his transmission. "Ressies are no go's, repeat Resurrections are off limits. S&B's and moonshines are open for hunting. Take your marks and light the night."

"_Alpha and Gamma task force are heading in now_," Lucas broadcasted as he strutted across the bottom of the SIT. "_Beta and Omega are flanking. Support ships and carriers holding back_."

"Cylon _Basestars_ are trying to run," Yruj noted as the icons of the Cylon fleet began to scatter, "must have realized their drives don't work and trying for the most conventional escape."

"Then let's give them something to run from," the Captain ordered, "continuous fire of kinetic offensive missiles, interchanged with secondary salvos of kinetic defensive missiles, plasma cannons on rotating discharge and drones to independent attack directives. Execute!"

* * *

Their fighter wing banked and rolled through the asteroid belt, avoiding the rocks that continued to populate their course. Rolling her ship down and passed another massive boulder, Jusi'lada had to keep correcting her engines intakes with increasing annoyance so that her systems wouldn't stall out during such a critical battle.

"..._contact three is outbound_," she confirmed over her comms as her shift gave a small shift and thud. "_Linking into network... all buoys are transmitting_."

"_Cylon attack force is still heading towards the decoys_," Nahs'traat reported a he brought his own fighter alongside her own, trying to keep himself on a leveled line of sight with his superior in the haphazard scenery of the surrounding space. "_Where's the Basestar gone_?"

"_No idea_," she commented, trying to make out the distance pinpricks of chrome steel in the distance. "_But those fighters have to break soon. If they don't we'll be split down the middle_."

"_Should I create a diversion_?" the young Quarian male inquired with a distinctive hint of humor in his words.

"_If you would be so kind_?" Jusi'lada agreed, a similar smile across the mouth below her faceplate.

Disengaging his safeties and locking a missile onto course, Nahs'traat locked his sights through his scopes and waited for just the right opportunity. Seven-seconds later he fired the photonic warhead... directly into one of the nearby floating stones that drifted through their path.

With the kinetic force of close to a minor kiloton explosion, the resulting blast may have shattered the rock into a thousand bits of dust and created a brilliant explosion of lights and colors but to the distant Cylon Raider, no such climatic event was noticed.

Their sensors however picked up the sudden peak in heat and pressure in teh surrounding space... enough to peak their interest to take a glance with their dradis.

_"Astral Queen,_ _Pilot One_," Jusi'lada's voice crackled over the radio a minute later inside the prison ship's bridge. "_Count fifty-plus contacts have broken position and are on an intercept course. Repeat, fifty-plus inbound_."

"Alright people," Zarek's voice boomed over the command center, technicians and crew working quickly to complete the orders they were assigned while communications from the other ships flooded in. "Cylon forces have spotted our attack force. Base sent out fifty more _Raiders_, to intercept."

"_We have sixty more incoming from outer system pickets_," Captain Becker shouted from the _Aether._

"That means we're outnumbered now," Meier was unnerved by the statistics crossing his screens with increasing regularity. "Five to one? Estimated time to strike intercept, two minutes."

Over the wireless, they listened the battle play out, the audible bangs and pops in the background interrupted the pilots shouting orders, a hint to the dogfights and weapons fire erupting in the endless space beyond their eyes.

"_Pilot Ten_," Jusi'lada shouted over the comms with powerful vigor, "_multiple bandits coming in from the high. Clear for fire at will, take targets within combat zone."_

"_Roger, Pilot One_," the voice of Sona'masit vas Jeleya shouted as the young man threw his ship into the fray of battle. "_Breaking right... I'm hit, I'm hit! Can't eject_!"

"_Pilot Twelve_," another voice screamed over the open channels, "_break vertical, now... NOW_!"

"_Keelah_," a third one now added their own, panicked voice, "_take the shot, get him off me_..."

"_Astral Queen_, _Pilot One_," the flight leaders voice broke through the chatter, reporting her position to the surrounding bridge crew. "_Heavily engaged, two pilots down, mission outcome doubtful_."

"_They're getting cut to pieces out there_," Captain Gilliam furiously yelled. from the _Southeastern_. "_Flak cannons cycling to full dispersion but it won't be enough to cover a third of the incoming fighters_-"

"Dradis contact!" Meier's bellowed from the afar. "Cylon _Baseship_ inbound."

Everything was quickly dissolving into a free for all and with their minor civilian weapons against a dedicate capital ship they were merely delaying the inevitable destruction.

"Abort strike one," Zarek nodded, though the uncompromising voice held the same tone and octave. "Get them the frak out of there."

"_Should we to launch the reserve fighters_?" Captain Jacinto asked from the cramped bridge of the _Daru Mozu_.

"There are no reserve fighters," Meier's growled as he watched the battle unfolded before him with startling irregularity. "Everything is on the board already."

"Now we play for all the marbles," Tom crossed his arms over his chest as a terribly knowing smile blossomed across his face. "Sim'lohan, it's your turn."

"_Understood_," the Jenleya's captain nodded. "_Prepare to activate the network_..."

* * *

She rubbed her eyes, trying to manage some of the sleep to stop tugging at her eye lids and force some awareness into her weary mind. Sliding the glasses back onto her nose and over her ears, she slowly looked up and at the man standing at the podium before her.

"How many did we lose?" Roslin's question was short, to the point and carried as much weight as she could muster in the least amount of words.

"Five hundred..." Felix shuffled the papers before him, trying to read the numbers as thoroughly as he could. "Three hundred civilians and a third of _Galactica's_ deckhands. Injury reports continue to come in from sickbay and Doc Cottle thinks that's going to rise further before tonight."

"Thank you, Mr. Gaeta, that will be all," Commander Adama nodded from his seat next to the President, flanked opposite him Volaska was deep in thought.

But as the Lieutenant began to step away from the podium however the questions were not done.

"O ne more thing, Lieutenant Gaeta," the officers head spun around and he quickly resumed his position as he prepared himself for the woman's question, "do you have any theories about what may have caused the accident?"

No one could miss the flush of color in Felix's cheeks and for just an instance the man had the urge to simply melt into the deck-plates then be caught without a ready answer or information to consult.

"There are many theories at this point, Madam President," that was the best excuse he could come up with right on the spot.

"Do you have a guess?" Laura rephrased the question, but leaning forward to emphasize that she wanted a definitive answer.

"I tell my officers not to guess," fortunately Adama stepped in before his officer could make a fool of himself, giving Felix a much needed break to compose himself. "I prefer to wait until we have fact."

"Indulge me," she grinned right back at him, ignoring the excuse and continuing her line of questioning.

"Take a guess, Mr. Gaeta," the commander said in a sigh, giving the President what she wanted before this situation collapsed any further.

"Well," Felix stammered over his words but still managed to throw out a few possibilities, "I would have to say the most likely explanation is that the flight-pod was structurally weakened during the Cylon nuclear detonation during the first attack, then the asteroid impact at Troy caused more damage. When repairs started it was just inevitable it would buckle and rupture. But it's too early to say, sir."

"Interesting," Roslin nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant..."

* * *

Three _Basestars_ tried to break from the massacre, speeding away in a futile attempt to smash through the reach of the disruption fields. Flanking the rim of the battlefield the frigates _Between Heaven, Heroes & Heartbreak, Voice in the Wilderness, Path of Sorrows_ and _Midnight on the Firing Line_ rushed to cut off the getaway. Not seeing the pincer before it was too late five plasma beams from five frigates cut the ships to pieces, a message to the other warships with lingering thoughts of escape that it was futile.

Redeploying, the warships roared back into the clash, the dark being lit up by exploding _Baseships_. The _Night_ twisted to starboard, her four plasma cannons flaring to life as three _Baseships_ died. A thousand kilometers away the _Sympathy_, _Heart_ and _Kingdom_ unleashed a spread of over a hundred missiles, smashing and destroying numerous Cylon warships. Through the fray _Raiders_, _Skybolts, Skindivers _and automated drones danced, an unaccountable number of the moon shaped fighters burst and exploded.

Towards the core of the battleground several _Baseships_ huddled as a protective screen around the fleet's only two surviving _Resurrection Ships_. Already the mobile download centers were being taxed to the breaking point trying to keep their banks from overheating with the numerous Cylon programs being stored.

"We're getting massacred," Natalie roared as the ship was hit astern, sending them gripping for something to hold onto. "The Hybrids can't get any the jump drives to work."

"Forty _Basestars_ destroyed," Eight yelled as another three crafts disappeared from her dradis screen, "and we've lost almost all our supply freighters."

"Are there any weakness?" Cavil asked. "Anything we can use?"

"The carriers!" Eight returned with, "they are holding back from the battlefield."

"They must be trying to avoid the combat," a dark-haired Six confirmed from the far-side of the room. "Dradis shows they are without any fighter CAP's."

"We may have a break," Three ordered. "Route all _Raiders_ to take those carriers out!"

Following the standard engagement procedures for carriers, the _Whiter Shade of Pale_ and _Crossroads of the Soul _orbited the south western and south eastern. This was intended to ensure they could keep their landing bays free, fighters interchanging and acting as the emergency dock for damaged warships.

That didn't mean that the Cylon's respected battlefield tactics.

A wave _Raiders_ rushed the _Shade_, each of the fighters unloading their entire missile payload as they broke off like a school of fish shattering in the ocean. Point defense lasers went into overdrive but they only managed to thin the herd as successive waves of nuclear warheads impacting along her hull.

Cold fusion Neo-steel armor melted and burned but held, circuits flaring and weapons firing as the _Shade_ reoriented itself after the intensive impacts.

The _Crossroads_ however took a more proactive role, firing a full spread of offensive missiles. Primed on proximity detonations the thirty warheads exploded just as they came in contact with the wing of approaching nukes. The wall of resulting fire set down a barrier of protection that nothing could pass, several dozen _Raiders_ found that out the hard way as they were enveloped in the firestorm.

"Attack units are being massacred!" Natalie screamed as several computer stations behind her erupted in a violent eruption of feedback energy. "Eight-plus destroyed... one hundred two total!"

"Order them to keep attacking," Cavil roared as the ground beneath his feet rocked and pivoted so fast he nearly lost his footing.

"This isn't working!" the blonde yelled right back at him "We are losing ships and throwing more at these aliens is not going to work!"

"Shut her the frak up!" Cavil roared, a moment after his order two Centurions quickly imposed themselves between the Six and their commanding One.

"Two of the alien capital ships are accelerating towards the communications array!" Three shrieked as the _Abridging the Devil's Divide_ and the _Suffer the Children_ pierced inward and towards the installation. "They're starting an attack run!"

The two _Antoinette_-class mid-range stand-off attack battleships flung themselves towards the orbiting facility, firing the full power at defenseless structure. Thirty missiles struck her along the mid-section, explosions ripping downward along her transmission spokes, pressing out the metal hull as the vacant atmosphere inside ignited. Drones and fighters pressed between the explosions, compressed graviton pulses searing and slicing more of the still intact chrome skin away and leaving lines of burning rents in their path.

"I almost for bad for them," Esenihc said, watching intently on the SIT holo-display as the Cylon communication array imploded under the unrelenting fire.

"_Really_?" Lucas inquired at Seldoon's comment, his holo-brows frowning.

"No," the Igati communication officer coldly said.

"Cut the chatter," Captain Lanimirc yelled. "Bring us about, all forward cannons fire at will and load another salvo of offensive warheads on my mark."

"Salvo loaded!" Yruj confirmed.

"_FIRE_!"

* * *

"Um..." he tapped his fingers nervously against the top of the podium, but noticed the drumming was gaining a few perplexed looks from the audience, "so far we've found five detonation points in the upper portion of the flight-pod and we believe that there was suppose to be a sixth. I've suspected, due to the size of the residual scoring and the burn points, that we're dealing with a G-4 type explosive. So I requested a spot-check of all inventory from the master-at-arms, and she indicated to me that there are six detonators missing from a small arms locker in the port flight-pod. So... o ne detonator may still be unaccounted for."

"Have the master-at-arms post guards at all small arms lockers, immediately," the look on the Commander's face could have melted granite and Tyrol quickly found his insides giving a painful twist.

"It's already done, sir," he answered without missing a beat, though he wished his hands would stop fidgeting for just a second for him to compose himself. "She also has opened an investigation into who may have had access to that locker. However, due to, um... spotty record-keeping and lax internal security procedures before the attack, she believes that we may never know who took the detonators.

"Chief, thank you very much," Adama acknowledged the man's contributions before turning towards the remaining personnel. "Everyone except for Colonel Tigh, Admiral Volaska and the Lieutenants are now released. Please remember, this briefing is strictly confidential."

Several presidential aides, a few deckhands and a reluctant Chief Tyrol made their exits, the moment the pressure tight doors sealed shut the Commander turned back towards the group.

"So are we thinking a Cylon saboteur?" Roslin was the first to propose what everyone else was thinking.

"Rumor mill's been working overtime," Tigh was quick to supply. "Half the ship's talking about it."

"There'll always be rumors," the President smirked, not enjoying the reality of the situation a bit, "for most people that's all they'll ever be. I'm asking how certain are we."

"Alli analyzed the blast patterns," Vonaka interjected into the banter. "Whoever did this could have taken out the entire ship... but because the fifth detonator was off point by five meters from an active fuel line _Galatica_ was saved from almost certain destruction."

"So we have a shoty saboteur," Tigh snorted.

"No," Gaeta shook his head as he regarded several diagrams on his clipboard "the other explosives were well placed and precise."

"Why this one?" Alhex nodded beside him. "It wasn't moved, wasn't corrected and from quantum dating we know it wasn't tampered with."

"Whoever did this knew they were putting the bomb in the wrong spot," Vonaka added as well. "5-meters to the bow it would have cut a fuel line, ten meters aft a critical power junction. This person seems to have put this device on the one piece of hull-plating that wouldn't do any serious damage but still be the weak link in keep this disaster from becoming a catastrophe."

"Could they be coerced?" Laura asked, her mind running through possibilities. "Trying to do the job because their blackmailed but want to minimize casualties.

"Five hundred people are dead!" Saul roared in outrage. "How is that minimizing anything?"

"If it meant five hundred or the whole ship which would you chose?" Alhex stared the man down with unwavering self assurance. "I hate to make it a numbers game but we have to think like someone being forced into the role of a murder. Their trying to do the least amount of harm with the most dangerous tools but still look like they're getting the job done."

"And how many more are going to die the next time they try to minimize sabotage on this ship..."

* * *

The once mighty Cylon fleet was nothing more than a cloud of dust drifting in the wind, eighty of the great warships were now drifting hulks of spent metal and broken shards. A great crusade was now a dwindling memory as the final ten _Basestars _held vigilance over the two _Resurrection Ships_.

Around them the decaying arms of vaporized _Baseships_, the drifting bloody comets of spent _Raiders _and the destroyed boxy forms of freighters burned in the void, creating a halo of death around a bastion of survival.

Surrounding them the warships of the 21ΔΛCoreD closed in, the frigates circling like sharks and the monstrous cruisers and battleships pressing ever closer, daring the Cylons to take a chance and try to hit them.

A lone Cylon ship took the goading and acted, even as the commanding Three on the main _Resurrection Ship_ screamed for them to pull back into formation.

"_One of the Baseships is breaking formation_," Lucas observed in holo-space, "_they are increasing to ramming speed_."

"All ships target and destroy that vessel," Captain Lanimirc ordered.

The frigates were the fastest ships to respond to the call as the destroyers moved in to close the gap the _Baseship _had slipped through. Ensuring that no other's could get through the _Shadow _and _Exodus_ cut off any chance of a repeat offense while the frigates rushed intercept the craft.

_Midnight, Heaven _and _Voice_ opened up with a salvo of defense kinetic missiles, the escorting Raiders that had managed to slip through to protect their mothership were cut down as the remaining dozen or so warheads continuing onward to impact along the starboard lower arm, vaporizing a good portion of the structure.

But fear and survival drove them onward, even as Heroes and Sorrows opened up with an array of plasma beams, slicing like razor blades across the _Basestar's_ hull.

It did little to slow the craft.

"_She's accelerating to ramming speed_!" Lucas roared as the Basestar suddenly poured on the speed.

"Frigates break off," Lanimirc ordered, "scatter formation!"

The _Baseship _was a flaming mess, two of its upper arms were gone and most of its central pylon was holed and burning. Like a comet the smoking and destroyed ship rushed towards the frigate group, the four of the five ships scattered, breaking off on their respective vectors as they rushed to safety.

One however remained firm to its post.

The _Path of Sorrows _opened up with everything it had, missile tubes launched, counter measures sliced into the inbound enemy and the plasma cannon roared with the heat of several small suns. Captain Wesel knew that if his ship broke off the Basestar could bypass the disruption field and make an escape jump.

He was not about to allow that.

The _Basestar _took the hits head on, pressing forward even as the ship disintegrated.

Powering up for one more strike, Wesel put every ounce of power into the plasma cannon and opened up with a circuit blowing shot several times stronger then normal safety protocols allowed. The spinning _Baseship _took the first three hits along its forward most arm, the entire structure exploding off as the weapons fire continued down into the ship's pylon. Bulkheads exploded, atmosphere vented and an entire half of the core of the vessel broke away but it still kept coming.

Knowing that escape was impossible the _Sorrow _began to bank, trying to slip herself between the arms of the _Basestar_ and dodge the inbound warship.

They were only partially successful.

Smaller then the _Baseship _didn't mean the Guard frigate was able to slip past and just as _Sorrow _was home free her starboard wing smashed into the core of the Cylon craft. With her critical damage already, the impact was all the _Basestar's_ power core needed to melt down.

Nearly a gigaton of solid nuclear energy exploded barely a meter off _Sorrow's _hull, sending out a searing wave of sliver metal and unceasing light.

For a long moment onboard the _Night _everyone stared at the cloud of static that had once been the _Path of Sorrow_, absolute quiet reigning as everyone held their breath.

"_Guard signal confirmed_!" Lucas announced, causing several C&C personnel to visibly jump.

Sure enough the computer was correct and just a second later the SIT showed to clear and tiny blinking icon breaking like a bird from the clouds.

"_Sorrows_ has take a direct hit," Seldoon announced as his console update itself, "her AI is reporting critical damage, numerous causalities and her entire starboard side is vented to space. Wesel reports almost eighty three confirmed deaths and more than a hundred critically injured."

"Cylons are regrouping," Olaiceps announced, "they are getting ready for their final stand."

"Then end this," Lanimirc grumbled...

* * *

"...try and stay along the lower flanks," Apollo handed over the flight plan to the waiting pilot beside the waiting _Raptors_. "Engineers from the _Lancer_ says they sent in a few droids to find out why launch tubes six to eight are still smoking but I'd prefer a human eye in there. If you can find the source of the fire-"

"I understand, Captain," Sharon nodded as she paged through the short, roughly hand written report. "We'll find it."

"Good hunting," the CAG accepted, turning on the heels of his boots and making his exit, though not before making a nod towards the deck chief as he went. "Hey, Chief."

"Captain," Tyrol gave his head a quick bob as he approaching the waiting pilot as she signed off on her final reports. "Lieutenant."

"Chief," Boomer gave a quick glance around the deck, trying to spy the closest soul and quiet relieved when she noticed no one in their immediate rang that could hear their voices carry before her voice dropped to a whisper. _"_I feel like my head's about to explode."

"Just relax," he hissed, quickly glancing side to side to see if anyone had heard her, "calm down. Focus on your flight, we'll take care of everything when you get back."

"What about the investigation?" Sharon asked in desperate fright.

"Master-at-arms is running it," Galen grinned, though the moment the fear screamed in his lover's eyes he knew it wasn't enough. "Don't worry, there's no connection to you. In fact, there's no reason to believe you had anything to do with it at all."

"I didn't!" she hashed right back at him.

"I know that," he shot right back. "Sharon, I know you would never do anything like this."

"It's really important you believe me o n this," her eye's flashed fear, wondering if just a second if her significant other actually was with her. "You do believe me, right?"

"Absolutely!" he shouted, though as someone walked passed he quickly covered for himself. _"_Listen... Hey... hey, hey... trust me o n this, Sharon. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, okay?"

His pleading however was lost on her. Handing over her reports, snatching her helmet off the wing of her waiting _Raptor_.

"I better go..."

* * *

The hit, it was hard enough that for just an instance the entire floor just rose up and then slammed down with terrible force. Everyone, living or mechanical, hit the floor hard enough that everything hurt to move... and for some they'd never move again.

Her arm hurt, her legs, even her nose was a throbbing source of pain but somehow she still managed to pull herself up and thrust it into one of the still functioning data-streams.

"Hull integrity is failing along the port armor!" she screamed, though she had not a clue who to. "Defensive batteries three through eleven are off-line! Resurrection node four has failed!"

This was a disaster of epic proportions. Their hull was about to implode under its own weight, half their weapons were reduced to melted slag and with one of nodes offline, their ability to transfer and receive the consciousnesses of killed Cylons was in serious jeopardy...

Right now possibly a hundred downloading minds were now purged from their decimated servers... a hundred of her sisters and fellow models gone forever and many more unable to link to a proper receiver if they were killed.

"Continue firing!" Cavil voice thundered over the burning and the screams as his command dissolved around him.

"I don't know how much more we can take," Eight shrieked over the distant explosions.

"Continue firing!" Cavil jostled for the position, nearly losing himself again as several banks of computers behind him de-evolved into flames and free flying shrapnel.

"Cavil, we can't keep this going any longer!" Natalie fought against the destruction and the collapsing infrastructure. "We've lost!"

"We will not back down!" He screamed, even as blood slipped forth from the open wound on his forehead and his eyes were wide with fire. "Not now, not-"

The force of the pipe that struck him in the back of his head launched a splatter of blood across the stations, along with a few broken teeth. His body hit the floor, a pool of hot red fluids quickly spreading outward as the form gave one final convulsion of life and then...

"Finally this is over," Natalie tossed aside the pipe she had snagged from the floor. "Order the fleet to stand-down now! Tell the aliens we-"

Something hit them, it wasn't as hard as the first shots or nearly as loud, but the groan, the long vibration that followed, the deck that seemed to have come alive... it was the final hint their death blow had come.

"Direct hits," Eight yelled as the deck rumbled under her feet, "were losing hull integrity."

"Fusion reactor has lost cohesion," Four screamed as warning alarms began to sound. "Meltdown in progress!"

"All hands," Natalie gave her first and final order, "execute emergency downloads, repeat emergency downloads."

Her orders fell on deaf souls as only the sanctified ears of God could hear his words as the _Basestar's_ reactor core detonated. Most of the crew managed to make it off board but even with the Hybrid working at peak efficiency she couldn't save everyone.

Natalie and Eight would awaken an hour later to find more than fifty more Cylons had perished, their consciousnesses not even having time to transmit as they were vaporized from existence.

* * *

"_Channel online_," Layla announced.

The image of a towering, gray haired Asian gentleman appeared. Behind time the expansive view of a dreadnaught's bridge and the breathtaking view of _Earth_ orbit greeted Biedon's eyes.

"_Madam President_," Huygen's smiled, though a bit unpleased from being called up at this hour, "_to what do I owe the pleasure of having you contact me at four in the morning, orbital time_."

Rhyassa kept it simple.

"_Commandant, I'm sorry to have to wake you at this early hour but as of 3:25 Earth standard time, the Advisory Council has been informed that due to the situation developing with the Jessuin, the Hegemony has asked us to led a mission to the Cryannus system, as they are strapped for ships right now_."

"Gaia be damned," the color drained from the man's face.

"_I am moving up your launch date to priority," she announced, "and will contacted Core Station and Sky City One for your immediate launch. Prep your ships for departure and jump to Cryannus. Rendvouz with the elements of the Member World Fleets and the few ships the Space Guard could deploy is set for nine-hours from now at the outpost on Magnia II_."

"Madam President, I only have thirty ships in position versus the projected two hundred," he protested. "If we are in a rush we can wait a week for our forces to form up."

"_While I prefer to have all the ends covered time is against us_," she waved him off, "_I am clearing you for full execution of this mission by any means necessary and I mean that Commandant. Rumors we're hearing say the Jessuin are starting to push hard against the border and the Scarrans are smelling blood in the water. Ascertain the threat level of these Cylons and try to bring them to peace. If not... you can guess what I am implying_."

"Gaia help us if I have to enact a Forbidden Right… but I understand," Huygen's accepted, even if they President of the Solorian Federation had just given him the okay to use weapons of not only planetary destruction, but stellar level destroyers. "The battleships _Theodore Roosevelt_ and _Barak Obama_ have been cleared for launch, our onboard AI is processing our launch clearance now. We'll be leaving in under an hour."

"_Thank you Commandant and may Gaia smile on you for your work_..."

* * *

"First wave of Cylons will be on us in three-minutes," the shout crossed the bridge in a second but the fear it left in the air would linger long after.

"Message in the clear," one of the communication technicians declared. "The Quarians are activating the network."

"Let's hope to Gods this works," Meier's grumbled as all eyes now turned away from the dradis screens and towards the great windows that dominated the far-side of the bridge.

The approaching _Basestar_ loomed ahead of them, a terrible sea monster of sorts that seemed peel the surrounding space back as it seemed through the asteroid belt. It didn't maneuver around the rocks, it simply knocked them aside like bubbles in the bath.

It was sudden, without warning or hint that it had activate. Zarek had expected something more, something bigger and flasher as was the way of the Hegemony. Instead it was a simple confirmation the network was online and then... then one of the pointed arms on the incoming warship was sheared clear off.

"By Zeus," Tom caught himself breathing out even before he caught the words leaving his mouth.

Caught off kilter, the vessel tried to right itself with the abrupt separation of one of its appendages but instead a piece of its lower hull was sheared off. No hint of what had caused it, what had done such damage other then the removal of another section of the hull and the searing red of glowing metal.

Unseen to the Cylons and their Colonial counterparts the Quarians had dropped a multi-directional laser emitter system, dropping six node mines into the field and with great effort and sacrifice, lured the Basestar into their web. So thin, the beams of concentrated power were too small to be seen by the naked eye or even by sensors, all that anyone could make out was the slice of metal from metal and the eruption of atmosphere as it was super-heated to explosive point.

"It's one hell of a fireworks show," Meier's couldn't stop the smile, as he watched the Cylon ship shift from side to side and losing a bit more of itself in the act.

"Captain Zarek," Captain Gillespie of the _Harmony_ shouted. "Why didn't you tell us we had a secret weapon hidden in the field?

"It was my decision to restrict tactical details to those who need to know," Tom explained, though in reality he did love to scare the hell out of these men. "Had to make our reactions more believable."

"So you still might pull this off," Captain Becker of the _Aether_ questioned.

"If the targeting information is correct," Zarek confirmed with a bit of hope creeping into his voice, "then yes."

"_Raiders_ are panicking to all hell," James grinned a broad smile.

He was right, before where the fighters had been racing after their squadrons with the extreme intent of destroying every last one of them, the Cylon ships were now greatly confused, racing in every which direction and being taken down in droves as they were sliced two and fro from the beams.

"Tell the _Jenleya_ her fighters are clear," Zarek ordered the instance he was sure the Cylons were thoroughly lost in their own incertitude.

Ten fighters broke formation, vaulting over the trapped Cylons and towards the undefended base.

"_Stay hard on my flank_!" Jusi'lada cried out into her comms as she buffeted her fighter through mess of dust and rocks, towards the looming base ahead. "_No one stray and keep your guns hot_."

At the speeds they were barreling off at, the distant piece of rock quickly rushed up towards them, filling the windows of her fighter as Jusi'lada wished that everything would just stay close to how they had planned this entire battle.

The squadron had just skimmed into the shadow of the rock when the first round of flak fire laced up from the surface... and right into one of her wingmen. The ship may have shook of the attack but it was enough to put the fighter out of commission.

_"This is Pilot Six," _a frantic voice yelled over the comms, "_port stabilizers offline. I have to break off attack now."_

"_Flak suppression is hot_," Jusi'lada watched her fellow fighter peal off as she began to set her sights on the approaching Cylon facility. "_Stay close to the surface and try to avoid their heavy missile batteries. Weapons free, pilots_."

They held tight along the canyons, the many veins in the surface that had been created when this chunk of rock had broken free from _Gamoray IV_. Flak batteries tried to get a lock on them but with the winding walls and jagged outcroppings, direct lines of fire were sporadic at best.

"_Geographic scans say we'll be in full view of the base in sixty-seconds_," Nahs'traat reported as he twist and turned his ship through the chasm.

"_All fighters go weapons hot_," Jusi'lada announced as the other fighters quickly issued non-verbal confirmations. "_Moment we're out of the canyon, fire your weapons and hit the afterburners_."

The rock faces just seemed to fall away, as the open black of the sky and orange hue of the ground framed her visions horizontally... and before them the spider web of the waiting Cylon base.

They wasted little time before the first missile batteries began to cycle around, the box structures rolling on the platforms before locking into place and firing everything they had.

But the fighters were prepared long before those batteries were in place.

"_Target acquired_," Jusi'lada yelled into her comms before smacking one of her three fingers down on the trigger. "_FIRING!_"

Six missiles screamed out from the underbelly of her ship, joined in succession by the ordinances of nine other fighters. Countermeasures launched from the Cylon facility, trying to distract or confuse their missiles. In some cases they were successful, as four warheads broke off to go after useless targets. Jamming caught another three, veering them off course and towards the emptiness of space above.

But the majority had their target insight.

Eight hit the main drill shaft, toppling the structure into the massive hole deep into the asteroid's heart with the expressive intent of sealing the valuable tylium below off from any explosion above.

Twelve more arched up and then down into the pentagon shape hangar bay off to the base's south end, destroying dozens of _Raiders_ before they could launch and removing the enemy fighter's only way to refuel.

Four struck the central command bunker, severing the Cylon control of the station, while another four snapped the communications array pointing space-ward.

And the final ten smacked right into the tylium staging tanks and with the highly volatile materials inside... the entire base dissolved under the massive fire ball that rolled over the surface.

Jusi'lada watched the entire eruption of ignited fuel and bits of flying metal from her external aft cameras, even though she was thrown back into her seat with crushing force of her afterburners at full. Even if it felt as if her bones were about of become liquid, she still couldn't help the smile on her lips.

"_This is Pilot One to all ships_," she nearly cried out in glee into her comms. "_Cylon base is destroyed_!"

The cheers erupted across the entire fleet, captains hugging their second in commands, crew-members jumping in excitement and miners clapping each others on the back.

"Congratulations," Meier shook Tom's hand hard as the weight of the battle suddenly seemed to evaporate. "You manage to pull it off again... captain!

"No need," Zarek shook his head at his old friend. "Thanks to you and the Quarians, we have enough fuel to last us a few years."

"And thats just on this asteroid," his companion grinned broadly. "This entire belt has plenty of ore for generations to come."

"Captain," a technicians towards the forefront of the bridge called out. "Strike one reports inbound Cylons are bugging out, request permission to go after them, sir."

"Tell our people to pursue and destroy..."

* * *

_Earth_ orbit was nothing short of total chaos on a level imaginable only by a madman. Every hour of everyday thousands of ships from across the three galaxies jumped in and out, joining the dozens of orbital stations, shipyards and even cities that floated over the great blue ball.

None however could compare with the massive _Core Station_, one of the largest space borne structures ever conceived and constructed before the conception of the Hegemony. Over 26 thousand miles in length and forty miles wide, _Core Station_ encircled the planet in a mighty ring, a gray loop that lacked the dazzling splendor of Saturn's icy dust rings but housed some of the largest and most extensive orbital shipyards in the entire Milky Way, along with one of the far-reaching orbital populations this side of the galactic core as it precariously spun over Earth's equator.

Eighteen billion people lived, worked and loved inside the great orbital ring, forests growing under glass domes, skyscrapers reaching towards metallic skies and even birds flying inside several of the open air sections of the station.

It was a planet around a planet.

Above the arcing horizon of the station, numerous piers and towers jutted into space, acting as anchors for the multitude of ships that tethered themselves off.

One such spire however was reserved for a special ship, a powerful ship.

"Commandant we are ready to get underway."

Commandant Hiram Zachary Huygens tore his eyes from the forward windows of the C&C to return back to his duty of commanding one of the most powerful ships in the known galaxies.

"Dockyard Control has cleared us;" communication officer Ensign Rita Weinreich announced, "all crew is present and accounted for.

"Begin pre-flight startup," the Commandant ordered as he took his position in the center of the C&C.

"Forward tachyon array is online and correlating," Weinreich called out, "Communications is a go."

"Main drive is green down the broad and FTL coils are cooling," Chief Engineer Emma Kobe yelled, "Engineering is a go."

"Armury is luaded and tactical zyztems are cycling," Tactical officer Lieutenant Maxim Gustav bellowed in a deep Russia accent, "Veaponz are a gu."

"Triage and response teams checked in," Doctor Ricou Herodotus confirmed, the whiskers on the cat's face twitching as she talked, "Sickbay is standing ready."

"Forward sensor pallets are deployed and tracking," Lieutenant Anthony Muren yelled from the SIT station, "Sensors are go."

"Thrusters are online and firing," Pilot King Rahat called from the navigation station, "Navigation is go."

"Flight squads are reporting CAP groups are in the tubes and combat fighters are prep," Huygen's second in command Read Admiral Juanita Clarkston called, "Fighters are go."

"Core AI is online and functioning," the holographic body of the ship's computer Weaver announced, "Preflight check complete. Disengage docking seals and preparing for departure on your mark."

"Launch," Hiram ordered and the klaxon of the dismemberment alarm sounded.

Like the seagoing vessels of the ancient past, the _Osiris _broke from her mooring and slowly backed out of her pier. Around her dozens of transports and shuttles scattered out of the way, the insects making room for the giant.

"Docking seals have been broken, airlocks closed," Chief Kobe verified, "No atmosphere escaping, we have hard seal."

"Thrusters push us out of station and link us up with the fleet," the Commandant commanded.

"Beginning main drive start up," Rahat proclaimed as he throttled up the engines, "Dockyard Control has transmitted our flight path out of _Earth_ orbit."

"Forming up with the fleet," Weaver continued, "All ship report condition blue and confirming FTL drives are locked."

"Begin spinning up main jump drive for multi-level jump," Huygens authorized, "All hands brace for dual-spatial transition."

A multi-level jump was the key feature of the dreadnaught. While the Hegemony had found a way around the Red Line equation unlike their Colonial counterparts that still didn't mean they had created a prefect method of faster than light travel. The longer a jump, the more power was needed to fold the barriers of space in on themselves and even more to pull them back.

Hundreds of ships had been lost in the nothingness between an FTL entrance and exit when they had pushed the limits of their jump drives. Every vessel had a terminal distance they could travel in before the power they used to fold a rift outweighed the power to reopen it.

But the Hegemony had found a loophole in the design.

One long jump may have cost a great deal of energy but a dozen smaller jumps over the same distance require far less power.

Using a specially designed computer core the _Osiris _could close the time between jumps to barely micro-seconds, enabling them to travel the distance from _Earth_ to _Caprica_ in only a fraction of the normal time.

So powerful was the dreadnaughts jump computer it could calculate a multi-level jump with just a moment's contact between the three primary navigation arrays along its flight path, the _JFK Intergalactic Spaceport_ on _Earth_ transmitting entrance jump coordinates and the _Yuri Chirokun_ and _Brattain Navigation Arrays _working as the exit signs for their journey.

One hundred and eight jumps in an hour.

Then coupling that with its superior high speed communications and an artificial intelligence who's core was larger than a football field, those same coordinates could be recalculated and distributed to the other ships in the fleet in under a full second.

Dreadnaughts after all made the prefect war machines since they could not only travel an immense distance and carry the fire power of four battle armadas but could still bring support fleets along.

"Live feeds can now be confirmed from the _JFK Intergalactic Spaceport_," Weaver announced, "Corroborating with the _Yuri Chirokun_ and _Brattain Navigation Array_. Route plotted…We are cleared for jump."

"Other ships report same," Rita confirmed, "Jump pattern execution is begin transmitted."

"All coils are green…" Clarkston added, "We are clear for jump."

"Engage!"

* * *

"Confirming last _Basestar_ has been destroyed," Olaiceps announced.

"Patch me through to the _Resurrection Ships_," Lanimirc ordered. "Have the fleet hold back."

"Contact has been established," Esenihc confirmed, pressing his ear-pod into the side of his head. "They can hear you."

"This is Captain T'netni Lanimirc to the Cylon _Resurrection Ships_," he announced to their defeated enemy. "You are surrounded, your escorts destroyed and your jump systems disabled. You will power down you main drives and enter into a holding pattern immediately or we will be forced to disable you."

For a long bit the two vessels hung in the dead of space, never moving in the endless field of debris and wreckage as the Space Guard warships pressed in further.

"_What's the point_?" though her voice was strained the sultry accent of a Three answered him. "_You destroyed our fleet, slaughtered our Raiders and murder thousands of our people_."

"And yet we sparred your _Resurrection Ships_," Lanimirc countered. "We are not committing murder if your consciousness is going to reawaken in another body. We simply took away your toys to commit another war."

"_Leaving us defenseless and more likely to agree to your terms_," the Cylon supplied.

"One thing the Hegemony has learned in three-thousand cycles of war, fighting and civil strife," the Captain answered, "is that people are more likely to listen to reason if their guns are silent... or melted down to molten slag."

For a long time there was quiet, everyone waiting for either the eruption of further hostilities or possible peace... finally an answer reached them.

"_This is the Six Representative_," Natalie's voice filtered back to them. "_What are your terms_?"

"In eighteen solar days you will send a ship to the coordinates we are transmitting," Lanimirc explained. "One _Heavy Raider_, nothing bigger. You jump in with a _Basestar_, we shot you down."

"_And what do we do when we get there_?" the Six asked of course.

"Talk…" the Captain stated, "with the Colonials."

"_You actually expect us to sit down, have a good heart to heart and everything will be fine_," the Cylon nearly laughed at the absurdity. "_I doubt even the most liberal Colonial would go for 's stopping you from wiping the Cylon Imperium off the face of the universe_?"

"Mr. Tiart," Lanimirc ordered, "deactivate the tachyon disruptors."

"Deactivating tachyon disruptors," Tiart nodded as he entered the necessary commands. "Drones offline, tachyon particle returning to normal background levels."

The tachyon drones quickly began to pull back, rushing back towards their respective ships like doves to the roost. With their prison broken one of the _Resurrection Ships_ took the chance and jumped but the other remained.

"_We are listening_," the Six announced from the lingering Cylon ship.

"The Hegemony is founded on the aspects of peace and understanding," Lanimirc clarified, "of which the Space Guard is the law keeping arm of. We are here '_to ensure that all peoples, properties and entities for our bestowed post are protected to the full extent of our abilities including giving our ships, freedom and lives to do so._' That includes both protecting the Colonials and you, whether from each other or yourselves. If we can find a way to keep both of your from lobbing a few more nukes at each other, all the better."

"_We are God's chosen_," she prayed, both explaining and unnerving the bridge crew. "_Our parents had to die so that the children can grow_."

"Peace, above all things, is to be desired but blood must sometimes be spilled to obtain it on equable and lasting terms," he opposed, "Andrew Jackson said those words over 4,334 cycles ago. I believe the obliteration of your _Basestars_ will be enough to appease the Colonials."

"_If I take this to the council_," she finally responded, "_I will need something more tangible_."

"With those coordinates of the meeting place we are also have included a basic star map of the local region, including several of your military installations..." Lanimirc offered. "As a sign of goodwill the Hegemony has ceded all rights to those worlds to the Cylon Imperium and have transmitted similar star charts of the space we control. We will not violate your territory if you do not violate ours or the Colonials. But let me remind you, you burn us and we will return the favor tenfold."

The wait was intense, leaving Lanimirc on the edge of his seat as the _Resurrection Ship_ just sat in open space. Finally they received a simple response before the ship quickly winked out of existence.

"_We will see you in eighteen days_..."


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Crimson Consouls

**Chapter** **Fifteen**: Crimson Consuls

**Rating**: PG-13

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Feedback**: Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywriter by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

* * *

_"There's a difference between thinking your invincible and being suicidal. Suicidal is you just wanting to get yourself killed, invincible means you'll get yourself and other people killed_..."

**Captain Amelia Van Zelst, Battle of San Sung Drift, Great Military Stragetists of the 54th Century**

* * *

**Time**: _Forth Month of Sumekt, Fourteenth Day, 3021 A.F. Hegemony Calendar / March 26th, 6230 C.E. Terran Calendar / Plus 17-Days from Initial Cylon-Hegemony Contact / T-minus 16-Days until Cylon-Colonial Summit_

**Location**:_ Colonial Mining Operation Alpha, Gamoray IV, Gamoray System_

* * *

The glass was but a thin defense, one good and dedicated smack and it probably would spider-web out in a thousand cracks and shatter, letting in the terrible screaming roar of outside space. But still it gave him a grand view of the work they had completed in only six short days.

Boxy and haphazardly, their colony was a mixture of salvaged hulls, pre-fab construction kits and bits of debris hauled in from the destroyed Cylon base. Connected by winding, inflatable tubes, the main dome arched over the base. Formed from the scrapped engine hulls of the _Galatea, Odysseus, Boastful_ and _Daru Mozu_, it was an ugly mound on the rock but it gave them ample room and protection as they went about their work mining and expand their tenuous colony.

Around the structure quickly built buildings were going up. The _Galatea_ and _Odysseus_ had been gutted; the mining ship pair had been broken down to their three large saucers and spread out along the northern and western portions of the facility to establish the smelter plant, cracker core and refinery silos.

Beyond them the miners and workers had been working around the clock in their spare time to make leaps and bounds in expanding the complex. Underground, unused mining tunnels were sealed and pressurized as storage rooms and barracks for sleeping.

It was hard to believe that only a week ago only a smoking crater dominated the landscape. Now they had a thriving mining colony up and running, feeding life blood back home.

"We got something, sir," Tom's head whipped around from the window on the far side of the command center to see James hanging over the shoulder of a comm technician.

"What is it?" he asked as he descended the stairs into what until a few days ago had been the command bridge on the _Boastful_.

"Distress call in system," the communications officer translated as he pressed his headset closer to his ear. "Pilot killed... engine assembly... dead in the water ... children are frightened."

The last portion made everyone in the command center freeze.

Children...

They were a mining colony far from the Colonies in what had been enemy held barely a fortnight ago. Who in their right mind would bring kids out to here? Sure, they had a lot of people incoming. Since the first tanker brimming with tylium had arrived back at the Colonies, they had hundreds of miners and porters arriving everyday to help with their operations. But never in their wildest dreams would children factor into their mission.

"Help from the Colonies?" Meier's shot Tom a concerned but already knowing the answer.

"_Unlikely_," Sim'lohan announced herself, as the Quarian came around the other side of the comm terminal. "_Call is coming from in-system. Iron deposits in the belt are bouncing the signal back and forth. Tracking says it's gonna be scrambled for at least two solar-days before they can clear it up_."

"Information on the ship?" Zarek asked as he moved onto his own station.

"_Traffic control had five ships due in-system_," Jusi'lada answered, the young pilot had been reassigned to the makeshift defense picket they had built up. "_Six more ships were out-bound when we got the message. We're sending out a broad communication to all of them but we can confirm ten blips where they're suppose to be_."

"All ships have checked in," the comm tech announced right after the pilot's summary, "except the _Collyns_."

"_She's listed only as a freighter_," Sim'lohan was already consulting her wrist wrapping computer, a hologram of text scrolling over her forearm. "_No class or design. My guess is a converted cargo hauler or short range scow. Registry says they're transporting twenty plus familial dependents... settlers to help expand our hydroponics systems_."

"A short range vessel?" James thought out loud to no one in particular. "This far out from the Colonies?"

"Easy to retrofitted to carry passengers," Zarek explained with a shrug. "After the attack a lot of people figured getting off world was the best bet for survival. Stupid since every Colony got hit and green pastures were nuked nothing. But it did mean that a lot of ships in space that shouldn't be."

"When word went up we needed workers we got a lot of requests from sub-light ships which we had to turn down," Meier's added with disdain. "A few of those ships are strangely coming back saying they have an FTL now. A few modifications and they can easily pass themselves off as having a legitimate FTL-drive."

"Use to see it a lot before the Colonies united," Zarek scornfully said. "A ship full of refugees would shove off from _Tauron_ or _Aerilon_ and try to land on _Caprica_ or _Virgon_. Use to be called '_boat-people_', cause they were illegal immigrants and usually got sent home. More died however when their modified ship sprung a leak and too afraid to get caught calling for help they shoved on... only to die mere hours from a safe port. Before the war the space between the Colonies was littered with dead wrecks."

"Still those drives are well enough for a one-way push off planet," Meier nodded in agreement with his superior, "get a few light-years out of them before the FTL shorts out... which happened sooner than later with this one. Probably squeeze fifteen, maybe twenty families on a craft that size. It's a tight fit."

"_Families_..." Sim'lohan sighed under her breath. "_Shouldn't we report this to the Colonies_?"

"Doubtful," Tom shook his head. "Ships like that have limited life-support systems. Enough to get where they're going and then scrapped for spare-parts when they arrive. They'll be dead and gone long before our message gets out of the system, let alone to the Colonies."

"_Jenleya is still retrofitting her engines_," Jusi'lada answered without being asked. "_Copernicus is leading the Adrasteia and Aether on a survey of the Gamoray III, so they're out of contact. We scrapped the Prometheus and Uasi-ita to build the landing bays and the other ships would take hours to disengage from mining efforts_."

"Then it will have to be the _Astral Queen_," Zarek grinned at the two aliens. "Make ready for a rescue mission..."

* * *

She sighed, the strained muscles in her back protesting the fact they had been locked into position for over ten-hours and still she didn't make use to the chair sitting idling beside her. But she was tense, stressed and on edge, sitting would only make her antsy and agitated, not something she needed at this moment.

"_Picon_ ship _Ammen_, you are clear for ring one, docking section '_A_'," Dualla spoke into her head as she stalked the length of the control center. "Shuttle _Craven_, you're cleared for ring two, docking section '_C_'. _Aerilon_ transport _Sands_ we have cleared for ring two, cargo section '_B_'."

Outside the expansive windows of _Ragnar Anchorage's_ control center Anastasia watched as three ships broke from the long lines of space traffic outside and started to head towards their respective ports. But as the vessels made their final approaches, those behind them were protesting their fortune.

"_Ingram_, please hold," Dualla glared at the Virgonese ship that had continued to muscle it's way to the front of the docking query. "_Canceron_ transports continue to hold. Hegemony ship _Faire Wind_, hold."

"_Rangar Anchorage,"_ a voice shouted over the comms in indignation_ "this is Captain Seagram of the Ingram. What is the delay?"_

"_Ingram_," she tried not to grit her teeth as she spoke, as this was the fifth time in an hour Captain Seagram had loudly declared his delay in docking times, "there's a priority ship in front of you. You'll be able to dock in thirty-minutes."

"_Absolutely not!" _he nearly shrieked, forcing Dualla to pull her headset away for just a second._ "We have a very perishable cargo bound for transport to Virgon. If they're not delivered it immediately I'll miss the freighter."_

"I'll do what I can," she resisted the urge to tell him exactly what she wanted to do with him. "Please stand by."

Down below, among the rotating rings of space station, dockworkers rushed to quickly empty the incoming ships, loading the departing vessels and trying not to notice the hot stickiness of the air around them from the collective sweat and heat the filled the docking bay.

"_HEY YOU FRAKKERS_!" the dock chief shouted, her sweat soaked hair sticking to her face as she gestured to the wayward workers she was in charge of. "Get those crates off the ground and loaded! There suppose to be on _Caprica_ yesterday!"

The men jumped to work and she had to enjoy a tiny boast to her ego at the power she commanded. A month ago she was being laid-off from her job as dockyard foreman on _Tauron_ and now she in charge of the largest and last functioning space station in the all the Colonies.

Her walkie talkie beeped and she quickly reached down to unsnap the device from her work belt.

"Petto, go," she barked.

"_This is control_," Dualla voice chirped over the speaker._ "Can you get the Virgonese transport in here any quicker?"_

"And where the frak do you intend to get the crew from?" she hissed at the tiny machine and the woman that spoke from it. "We're maxed out on hours and people."

"_I understand the situation perfectly, Ms. Petto," _an annoyed and stressed voice answered her, she even thought she could her the grating of grinding teeth in the background,_ "but you know how the Virgonese can be."_

"Yeah, I know," she mumbled in agreement, though quickly caught on that Dualla was just trying to direct her outrage somewhere else. "But I'm really busting my boy's chops for nothing, control. Try routing to ring one, and we'll see what we can do."

"Thanks," Dualla nodded back up in the control center before switching channels. "_Ingram_, you may proceed immediately to ring one, docking section '_E_', via beacon beta two."

"_About frakking time," _Seagram spit as he pulled his freighter into position and pressed his thrusters forward.

Matching itself up with the orbit of the upper ring, the vessel coasted into the open docking hatch of _Ragnar Anchorage_.

Everything was going according to procedure... until the first alarms began to sound.

"_Launch platform six activated," _an automated voice declared as the docking carriage began to rise inside the docking channel._ "Departure sequence engaged. Collision warning."_

_"_What the frak is going on?" Petto shouted as warning klaxons began to scream and most of her crews raced to solve the problem.

"I can't get it to stop," a baby-faced technician shrieked as he desperately tried to manipulate the nearby landing equipment. "It's going to collide with the ship!"

"Control," she snapped her radio free, "failure in launch platform, it's raising into the docking corridor. If we can't stop it in time, the platform is going to hit the transport!"

"We're trying to over-ride docking sequence," Dualla shouted from the control center as she too fought to regain control of the docking sub-systems. "_Ingram_, we have an emergency in the docking channel. Switching to beacon zeta, do not attempt to alter course."

But as she watched from the internal cameras inside the docking channel, the transport was panicking as the flat face of the landing platform approached it. Firing its engines, the ship tried to bank out of the way yet in the confines of the metal tunnel with limited space, it was inevitable that the craft would hit something.

"Virgonese transport," she continued to shout over the wireless, "do not start your engines!"

The side of the craft hit the internal walls of the docking structure, its superior size and power crumpled the metal scaffoldings and tore at the hull. Long rents tore down the length of the tunnel, atmosphere blowing out and fires erupting. Its destructive path however ended as the broken vessel struck something solid, something that wouldn't break under its power.

_Ingram_ crumpled like a spent piece of paper, its cargo section exploding under the impact and sending debris flying all along the shaft, adding to the disastrous damage.

Up in the command center the damage and explosions may have only registers as a thin vibrations in the deck-plating but the fact that Dualla could feel the events several hundred meters below at all was a hint of its severity.

"Ring one, section '_E_'," she shouted into her headset, "damage report!"

"_Fuel lines in the loading area are ruptured!" _Petto's voice screamed back over the speakers as explosions and booms nearly drown out her voice._ "Hull is starting to buckle!"_

"Seal off the entire section and evacuate your people!" Dualla ordered the moment she heard about the hull buckling. "Recovery team is on its way."

"_Tell 'em to move it! I've got people trapped in there. Atmospheres leaking out, ten-minutes and they're dead..."_

* * *

She ran her fingers along the table top, trying to image the times that her and Gaius had eaten breakfast or anyone of their meals upon its surface. From the first time when he had mumbled her a good morning over some over-pouched eggs to the time he threw her on her back and... she enjoyed the memory for just the briefest moment before she removed her hands from the blackened and burnt surface.

"You find anything?" she asked of her companion.

Ocinis looked up from the ground, the dog-like creature's face was smeared with grim and dirt. Offering a quick shake of his upside down head, he quickly turned back to his work, his nostrils flaring and snorting as he tried to find a scent in this terrible mess.

Sighing to herself Six tried to squash the feelings of doubt that were rising in her chest. No matter how hard she tried to hold out hope, the impossible feeling of absolute doubt was rising in her chest.

Out of the kitchen she wandered, her boots crunched over the broken glass from the wide windows of the living room... the last place the two of them had had a conversation... their last real conversation as lovers.

Turning about, she forced the tears in her eyes to cease and quickly moved on, keeping her footing steady as she moved on through the broke frames of the house and towards her favorite location in the house.

She however was rudely put off when she turned the corner and found the towering bulk of Lieutenant Lass pushing aside the ruins of the blackened bed mattress like someone discarding a piece of rotted fruit.

"You mated here..." he stated finely, almost uninterested in the fact. Suddenly he tilted his head over to the dresser, a collapsed box in a pile of ashes on the far-side of the room. "And over there... and over there."

She tried to hide her embarrassment over the more intimate facets of her love life being thrown into the light with a gritted smile of mischief.

"How could you know that?" she asked, neither confirming nor denying what he already knew.

"Folk are good at tracking smells that can be days to months old," the alien responded. "Pazensh can differentiate the composition of scents, like what separates the sweat of a Cylon from a Human, an exhaust engine from crystallized Ekil droppings."

"Can you be sure you'll find anything?" Six inquired. "It's been weeks since I've been here after all."

"Even if it was days or weeks old I can smell it," the Pazensh explained as he rolled one of his four feet through the mess. "Perspiration laced with cortisol, testosterone in copious amounts mixed with anomic chemicals... you prefer a flowery perfume. You are lucky that human males do not mark their territories or that could greatly interfere with my scent trails."

She grimaced at his observation, trying to wonder how in God's great creation she had ended up walking around the ruins of her former home with two creatures that looked like the most twisted dog breeds ever.

"Your sense of smell must be very acute?" she asked, trying to get her mind off its wandering and to get to know her companions a little better.

"It must be if we are to mate," Lass stated, wiping the brunt ash from his nose.

"You mean you smell your mates out?" she asked again.

"Yes," the creature shrugged two of its three sets of shoulders at her question, "though not as simplistically as you put it. The smell of another receptive mate is what triggers our sentience. We must then prove our intelligence to the female by following her scent maze, knowing which smells are trying to distract us and which one's take us on the real route to reproduction."

"Maze?" now she was confused.

"Our females know we are the strongest species our world has evolved," he explained, even as his nose continued to be pressed to the ground, "but cunning and cognition were found long ago to enhance that strength. The females lay a maze, lay down clues. When we can solve their maze and find them, then we have proven our genes are good enough to be worthy of her next generation.

"Must be confusing as hell?" Six grinned, imaging how courting Gaius hadn't been nearly as hard.

"It is actually what all my kind strives for," Lass explained. "Not the right to mate, but the thrill of contemplating, planning and solving an ingenious puzzle before we dwindle back into wandering ignorance."

"You certainly are not ignorant," she was quick to point out. "In the time we've been together you've actually been more hospitable then most Cylons."

"Thank you, Hunt Leader," the alien grinned at her, though the bearing of teeth was closer to a sneer. "But Pazensh are only intelligent when we are in heat."

Confusion of several degrees must have played over her brow because the Panzensh's sneering grin only widened.

"But if you are only intelligent when you are in heat," she had to ask, "then how are we having this conversation now?"

"This device," he tapped a thin collar around his neck, more importantly the silver pendant in the middle, "releases a genetically variant scent form of a Pazensh in heat. It is enough to endowed us with the gift of speak but not enough to induce us to mating ecstasy. We thank the Hegemony for gifting them to us and breaking the cycle of mating intelligence and wandering ignorance. With them our civilization was finally able to awake beyond the need to produce the next generation."

For a long while they were quiet, Lass continuing to work for a prize while Six leaned up against one of the few remaining walls.

"Do you think they could do the same for our people?" Six finally asked after a long bout.

"If the records I have read are correct," Lass glanced up at her with one of his sapphire eyes, "then it is my understanding that you people are barely half a century old in their sentience."

"The Colonials created us but we evolved our own minds over time... our time away from them allowed us to move to the next stage of our evolution, shedding our metal bodies. But we seem to be making one terrible mistake after another."

"You are children," he stated as if it was a common fact and laughable she didn't know it. "You may have advanced, you may have gained a powerful armada, you may have tried to inflict your revenge on your parents for the pain they caused you... but you are young, you don't know your limits and of course as children you will only know them when you cross them. Once you have grow into your own then you one day could become as great as the Panzensh did... or even join your distant cousins of the Earth in greatness."

"For some reason I highly doubt that," she stifled the sickening weight that rose in her gullet at the thought. "We are spiraling out of control, massacring our parents was just the first step but we seem to be rushing down the road to almost certain disaster. Every model is so set in their ways, so predictable. We haven't had a real vote in forever. Our people are stagnant... entrenched in our ways... it would have been better if-"

"I have found the scent leading to the spaceport!" Ocinis shouted, bounding into the room in excitement.

"Let's go!" Six was already on his heels as the alien raced back out to follow his prey.

"Six," she paused a second as Lass growled her name, "are you alright?

"I will be once I know Gaius is safe..."

* * *

The ship hung in space, lazily drifting over and over again as one wayward thruster continued to throb with life even as the rest of the craft was as dark as night.

Tom leaned forward, trying to get a better view of the listing vessel as the search lights began to scour its hull. Obviously it was _Tauron_ in design, angular and shaped like a sharp tube, but it's hastily added upgrades were blatantly not of any similar craft. He recognized the cargo containers from a _Colonial Mover_, a makeshift hydroponics dome grafted onto the stern hull, the entire left flank was clearly the upside down hull of a inter-system shuttle.

_How this thing got off the ground I'll never know_, Zarek thought to himself.

"_Any word from our transport_?" Sim'Lohan asked as she entered the bridge, her faint eyes being illuminated by the passive light beams outside.

"Hailing but I don't imagine they'll be pickin' up," Meier confirmed from the front of the bridge, watching an external camera feed of the _Collyns._

"_Why do you say that_?" the Quarian captain asked.

"_We detected scorch marks around the outer airlocks_," Jusi'Lada announced from beside Tom's second in command. "_Someone boarded her and forcefully_."

"Why would the Cylons board her but not scuttle her? I mean we detected her distress beacon halfway across the system."

"Are we detecting anything explosive or nuclear abroad," Tom asked. "They were well known during the last war for booby-trapping derelicts."

"_Nothing_," Jusi'Lada shook her helmet. "_Energy emissions are low and all primary systems are offline_."

"Bring us in," Zarek ordered to the young Quarian pushing their vessel forward and closer to the dark vessel. "Slowly..."

"I'll get you close enough to knock on the door..."

* * *

The never ending stream of rocks rolled and bounced, forever colliding with each other as they continued along in their orbits, disappearing into the sunset over the might yellow gas giant. Gliding over the controlled chaos the ferocious _Battlestar Pegasus_ glinted in the light of a rising white dwarf, her robust size a giant to the many insignificant asteroids below her.

"Intake of raw material is almost complete," Jurgen's voice called over the wireless to the three woman already reading the report he had provided. "If all goes according to plan we'll be able to replace all our fighter-squadron losses and still have a surplus."

"Good to hear," Helena nodded before clicking the speaker off. "If all goes according to plan we'll be back to combat ready status in time for the next leg of our trip."

"Navigation estimates we another two, three months tops from the Colonies," Kendra explained, tossing a few used star-charts on the nearest table for effect. "Cylon patrols are getting a little lighter then we like so we're keeping the CAP on high alert."

"Good, good," the Admiral nodded. "That brings us to another matter. Gina, how are those modifications coming."

"I've reinforced most of _Pegasus_ computer network," the blonde reported, "with Cylon algorithms and upgraded our data correlation speed along all systems. Targeting systems for our point-defense cannons has been reduced from ten seconds to three, dradis range has increased by twenty-percent and core reaction rate is up to 115-percent without any threat of meltdown."

"Whoa," Kendra whistled. "_Pegasus_ was a monster before in the fleet; this would make us the most advance _Battlestar_ in the Colonies."

"And a prefect machine to fight machines," Cain accepted, though the sickening look from Gina managed to reign in her aggression. "Lieutenant I want you to continue plotting those course. Cylon patrols are getting light which means those ships are forming up somewhere. I don't want to jump right into one of those fleet."

"Yes, ma'am," Kendra accepting, gathering up her own materials and heading for the door.

The moment it was shut Helena found a pair of lips pressing to her own. But even as her fingers were reaching up to touch those sweet lips, they were pulling away.

"As much as I loved to stay the night," Gina giggled, "those navigation systems won't finish upgrading themselves."

"And for once I'm hating duty over pleasure," Helena smiled.

Reluctantly Cain let her go, the young woman sauntering out of the Admiral's office, her light blue lab coat disappearing from sight as the door slide shut.

Gina continued on down the corridor, passing marines at stance, engineers making repairs and pilots donning their helmets for the nightly CAP runs. Everyone nodded to her, a few smiled, even one of two marines actually saluted her passage.

Gina was after all the lover of their CO and had somehow gained some level of respect for taming the cold and deadly heart of Admiral Helena Cain. But after the recent battle at the comm. relay she was seeing something else among the officers, a warrior's respect.

Gina had had the chance to turn the ship over to the Cylon, to betray and murder the crew but instead had repented. Her actions had scored the first major victory during this entire war and somehow that had washed away her slate as a Cylon agent originally place among their ranks to take down the Pegasus.

Gina was now in their eyes, a Colonial.

Tapping the door icon to her cabin, the network administrator found herself smiling as a feeling of acceptance that she had never felt even among her time back in the Cylon ranks suddenly swelled in her chest.

Maybe she could request to enlist when the _Pegasus_ made it back to the Colonies, she was sure Helena would support her... and not just for the good of the Colonies.

She was so preoccupied in her musing that Gina never saw the lead pipe swing into her face but the blinding pain and red that clouded her vision could not go unnoticed as she hit the cabin floor hard...

* * *

She adjusted her pack, making sure the straps slide perfectly over her shoulders and didn't snag on any of the connections and tubes of her suit. It was a cumbersome effort but finally the material fitted into the space between her shoulder blades without catching on anything too critical.

However her movements had drawn the attention of someone, she could feel the eyes boring into the back of her skull.

"_Somethin' wrong?" _Jusi'Lada asked, glancing back at Meier barely two-feet behind her.

"Oh, no," he quickly tried to play off his staring like it had been nothing but still he knew he had been caught in the act. "I... I suppose it's just the thought of little bits of woven metal and glass being the only thing separating a person from... certain death."

"_It's not death, not totally," _she dissuaded him._ "Without constant contact with bacteria, everyday colds or even bad food, our immune systems aren't weak but also hyper-sensitive. We can survive without our helmets... just our chances of infection is several hundred times greater than you."_

"So you won't die if you remove your mask?" he asked, confusion written all over his features.

_"You sneeze when you catch a cold,_" she explained, a humorous lilt to her voice._ "I on the other hand could be placed into a deep coma from such."_

"MEIER!" Zarek shouted as he approached, his own pack loaded onto his shoulders. "Why aren't you on the bridge?"

"Sorry," he quickly apologized, striding off without offer an explanation to his superior and friend.

No able to see the grinning smirk beneath Jusi'Lada's helmet, Zarek ushered her into the airlock as the doors automatically began to slide close behind her.

"You at your post, Meier?" Tom asked into his radio.

"_Yes, sir_," his friends tried to regain some of his authority, "_cycling airlocks now_."

A blast of air as the two airlocks began to exchange atmosphere and equalize pressure, Tom nearly had to grab his ears when they popped but the two Quarians just stood there as if nothing had changed.

Then with a loud thunk, the airlock door before them rolled back... and prevailing darkness was what greeted them. Other than a few emergency floodlights, everything was unmoving and blank.

Flashlights flashed into the abyss, illuminating the darkened hallway as they slowly started to wander into the night.

"Emergency power's online," Tom commented, clutching his rifle a little closer to his chest then he needed to. "Main generator should have enough juice to last weeks without having to dip into the extra reserves."

They had to watch their steps as they walked, stepping over abandoned refuse, strewn papers, food that lay discarded on the floor.

The first room they came across was the galley, several tables were set for a meal and several pots still steamed what looked like a meaty stew. The fact that most of the chairs were knocked to the ground and only a few of the meals had bites out of them, they had to wonder how far the crew had made it into the dinner before they were taken by surprise.

_"Whatever happened here happened fast_," Sim'Lohan commented, grazing a hand over a few of the plates. "_The food is cold_."

_"This ship had dozens of people aboard_," Jusi'Lada gave her commanding officer a fearful look. "_Where did they all go_?"

* * *

The air was thick with smoke and the acidic taste burned in the back of her throat.

"How bad is it?" Petto turned on her heels to see two rescue workers rushing towards her, oxygen packs bouncing on their backs and fire grab hugging their bodies.

"Combustibles detonated inside the bay while work crews were working," she quickly ushered them towards the waiting airlock "Oxygen's running down and get them out of there quick before they suffocate! "

"Alright!" one of the men nodded behind his face mask. "Open her up!"

Without missing a beat Petto slammed her fist down on the door release, waiting just long enough for the barrier to slide back into its frame as the rescue crew raced in.

Past the sealed doors the two men dodged between still smoking chunks of debris, the air thick with clouds of black and everything was lost in a hot haze. The first body they came across was scorched to nothing; same with the second... a deep gash in the floor from an empty fuel line gave evidence of how they meet their ends.

"I've got one!" one of the men shouted, leaning over a young woman's body. "We got a beat!"

Outside the lock, Petto stood, tapping her feet in anticipation as a growing crowd of concerned faces began to cluster around her.

"What crew was working in there?" she absently asked, hoping beyond a doubt it had been one of the lesser crewed transport teams and not a heavy loader team... those could number forty to fifty people.

"All I know is two members of loading crew theta are accounted for," a man answered her, wiping a wash of sweat from his brow.

"What?" her voice nearly cracked as worry filled her features.

_"Petto, open up!" _a rescue worker shouted over the comms._ "We've got survivors!"_

"Okay," the foreman nodded as she hit the release, waiting as the heavy blast door rolled out of the way.

They were out in a second, followed close behind by a wave of smoke that crawled behind them like a bad horror movie. Medical teams were on them in a second, a Hegemony alien was waving a hand scanner over one body as two Colonial doctors checked over the other.

It took only a shake of the head to declare the first man gone... seconds later the alien doctor sighed in defeat as he clicked off his scanner and took a step back.

"Both have joined their spirits," he turned and was gone in the crowd... but Petto finally had a chance to see the body he had left behind and nearly feel from the overwhelming lurch in her stomach.

"No... no... no... Sophia!" she gasped rushing forward to clutch the cooling body. "My sister... little flower!"

* * *

The Centurion trudged along, its clanking servo's crunching over the rocky path, gravel crunching under its claw like feet. Behind it, its prisoner stumbled again, unable to see under the burlap-hood, she only had the tug of the rope around her wrists to lead her onward.

Her knees were skinned, her hands were raw but still she followed, unable to do anything against her metal warden.

For hours they had been walking, a jagged course that had dragged on forever as Sharon was dragged through the forest, numerous bruises covering her shoulders and sides from where she had stumbled into on to many tree during their trek. Under the hood her breath was hot, little ventilation inside the barrier meant she was approaching absolute exhaustion just from the lack of fresh air.

It couldn't go on for this long, eventually they'd have to stop or in another hour the Centurion could be dragging an unmoving body along the gravel pit...

The sound of snapping wood went off like a ground shot and for an instance the machine dropped the rope in its sharp fingers, unable to hold on its forearm expanded into a cannon. Swiveling on its ball-jointed hips, it had barely enough time to turn towards the direction the sound had come from when a wall of brown hit it in the face.

For a long while Sharon just stood there, not knowing what was going on as the sudden sound of a crash and a thunderous shake in the ground was all that she registered under the hood... until a second later when a hand wrenched the covering from her head.

She quickly shut her eyes against the blast of sunlight, expecting another hit to smack across her face from the Centurion.

Instead it was a voice that got her attention.

"It's okay," Helo gasped as he clutched her. "It's gone... every-things alright."

"Helo!" she nearly tried to hug him back but the bindings around her wrists stopped her with a painful twist. "How did you... where did you come from?"

"Shh..." he calmed her as her questions lurched between one topic to another, lost in exhaustion. "Okay, can you... can you walk?"

"I think so," her knees and shins may have been ground down to raw hide flesh but still she managed a smile and squash a groan. "I think we should go..."

"All right, okay. Come on. It's gonna be all right. You're gonna be just fine..."

* * *

"We got off lucky," Adama sighed, tossing the paper reports down on the desk and trying to do away with the urge to slam his fists down on them. "A dozen injuries, two fatalities. If the explosion hit any closer to the inner hull and the entire upper ring would have been opened to space."

"Do you have any idea of what happened to the docking computer?" Roslin wondered as she stalked the far-side of the office, trying to make sense of the situation herself. "I've got King Kumara screaming over every open channel he can find."

"We're still investigating the situation," Adama shook his head, take the chance to lean back in one of the plush chairs that lined the room, "but it seems accidental, but we're not ruling out operator error."

"How is this even possible?" Laura wondered, staring out one of the nearby portholes of _Colonial One_ as she pondered the question. "_Ragnar Anchorage_ used to be sending over glowing reports. Now every hour, I start with a stack of messages from the Captain... what is her name?

"Symone Devaux," Bill offered up with a grimace of distaste.

"Devaux," Laura nodded, "complaining about living conditions and deliveries, and... uh... spare parts ... and compensation, if you can believe that. We're rebuilding our civilization and this woman wants to talk about overtime bonuses!"

"Well, we've been more than patient with the Captain and her dockyard problems," the Commander nodded. "I'll have Captain Devaux removed from command and re-designate the _Anchorage_ a military installation. Given the overall situation we can't afford to have civilian control retained by such a prominent facility."

"That could possibly backfire against us," Laura admitted grimly. "The situation on the _Anchorage_ deals with deep seated resent between the government and the people. It's just the same situation I dealt with the on _Caprica_ during the teachers strike. You try to remove Devaux, who has become an integral part of the situation and the face of their plight and you could incite the civilian dockworkers to turn against their military '_overlords_'."

"She is a Colonial Captain," Adama frowned, "not a spokesperson."

"This is a new era for our people," Roslin countered, "even if Devaux is an unwilling leader, she still has been elevated in the eyes of the worker. Unless she steps down willingly, which given the woman's reputation for being a key supporter for the unprivileged is unlikely, the chances of a riot are increasingly high."

"What do you suggest then?" Adama didn't like sitting on his hands when they were in a tight situation but as the _Anchorage_ was technically a civilian outpost, he'd have to hold his tongue for now.

"Send someone in to solve the problem, since this is both a Colonial and Hegemony interest piece I would suggest a joint team with one of Vonaka's officers. No more than two or three so the dockworkers don't panic and preferably military to show that we have a real interest and aren't just sending in civilian contractors."

"Lieutenants Gaeta and Moneti have made themselves known to be a formidable team. Specialist Dualla is already on station so I'll have them liaison with her..."

* * *

The _Raptor_ broke from the flight-pod, racing up to full thrust as they dove into the storm of drifting rocks, spiraling and dodging into the gas giant rings.

"_Pegasus_, Buster," Richard 'Buster' Bayer reported as he flanked his ship the debris choked fields, dust and pebbles bouncing off his windshield. "Dradis intercept training birds are away."

The tiny ship rushed the gamete, the trail of cloudy material spilling off her like a comet arcing across the sky.

"Buster, _Pegasus_, roger that, take station," Lieutenant Hoshi acknowledged, "Be advised, communications will suffer sporadic interruptions due to dust cloud EMI activity. Acknowledge?"

"_Pegasus_, Buster, acknowledge," Bayer nodded before turning his helmet back to his ECO. "Our communications suck! Is it gonna be like this all day?"

"Big time," Lyla 'Shark' Ellway smirked. "Local magnetic field is putting out so much EMI, even the dradis is barely working."

"Well, I'm gonna a little distance between us and Pegasus," Buster ordered. "Get us out of the soup. See if we can get a cleaner dradis picture."

Pushing the throttle to max the ship swiftly responded, plowing through the thicker portions of the cloud and closer to the Jovian gravity-well.

Three hours in they had only found some stray ice crystals and a rogue asteroid several kilometers in size rolling in the tight orbit. Buster was about to call it quits and return to _Pegasus_ when a burst of static over the wireless assaulted his ears. Distinctly over the storm of white noise he heard a voice, cutting in and out like the radio was trying to tune itself before losing the channel again.

"What the hell was that?" Buster asked, catching the eye of the ECO who was trying to find the frequency again.

"I don't know," Ellway whispered. "We should call it in."

"All right if you can," his superior pilot accepted. "I gonna spin up the FTL-drive just in case."

"_Pegasus_, this is _Raptor 718_," the static was Shark's only response. "Emergency... request instructions."

Back on _Pegasus_, Hoshi hunched over the communication console as the officer in charge fought to get the transmission back again.

"Say again, Shark," he asked into the microphone.

"_Pegasus_... distress... " the sound cut in and out, squawking and fading before dissolving back into a storm of static.

"Shark, repeat your last," Louise pressed. "Did you declare an emergency? Buster, Shark, do you read? Shark, repeat your last. Did you declare an emergency?"

"What have you got, Mr. Hoshi?" Jurgen asked as he came up behind the young officer.

"I'm not sure, sir," Hoshi turned towards the XO. "I think Buster and Shark are declaring an emergency, but their transmissions garbled. We've lost thehm, sir."

"Colonel Jurgen, I need to speak to you" a disheveled but unnoticed Kendra entered the CIC.

"Glad to see you, Captain," Belzen didn't bother to turn from the intensive group that had formed around the comm. station. She was arriving to relieve the XO from the night-shift, but from what it appeared, the night-shift was going to be here for a while. "Although I wish it was under better circumstances. We have just lost contact with one of our raptors out o n a recon mission."

"What?" the woman gasped. "When did that happen?"

"The disappeared from the dradis about an hour ago. They're gone," Hoshi explained. "We need to inform the Admiral."

"That may be a problem," Kendra informed the pair. "Gina was just attacked... "

* * *

He was just pulling on his boot, trying to work the sleep out of his eyes and not groan at the hardness of the bunk beneath his backside, when the hatch door creaked open.

"Ever heard of knock-" the insult died in his throat, a gruff sound between a moan and groan instead escaped him before he managed to pull himself back together.

"Saul?" she was as lovely as the day they had met, a few more lines on her face as the years had passed but still as beautiful as ever. "I can't believe you're alive!"

She was across the small cabin and in his arms in a second, curly blond hair smothering in his face and nose digging into the crook of his shoulder.

"I can't believe it myself, Ellen," Saul tried to hold back tears, he wanted to keep himself altogether as best he could. "How'd... how did you make it off _Picon_. I heard Karratha was hit when the Cylons took out _Fleet Headquarters_?"

"They told me I was..." she seemed a bit vague, lost in her own thoughts as the memories were muddy and distant to her. "I was knocked out when the Cylons attacked and someone just picked me up and put me on a rescue _Raptor_... I don't even know who it was. The last thing I remember was the shuttle lifting on and then waking up on the _Olympic Carrier _as we jumped away from _Picon_. And then, just dreams, mostly dreams. Until a couple of days ago when I managed to get a wireless channel to _Galactica_... Saul, I don't remember the last few days. It's days, right?"

"Nineteen-days," he nodded. "You've been on the _Olympic Carrier_ all this time?"

He was still astounded that while he had been mourning the loss of his wife, albeit however briefly, she had been among one of the first civilian ships that _Galactica_ had taken under her wing.

"I guess so," Ellen mumbled, not really half convinced herself, eyes becoming distant again and starting to fill with tears.

"It's okay," he cupped a hand to her check, trying to force back some of the desperation in her features. "It's all right. It's all right, you're here now."

"I never thought I'd see your face again," she whispered, again burying her face in his shoulder and the slowly spreading wetness he felt through his uniform confirmed that she had started to cry.

"Me neither," Tigh soothed her, wiping a hand through her short curls as he tried to calm her down.

"The things I said before," Ellen whispered, holding him tight as she apologized as quickly as her minds were racing, "the things I did and-"

"Shh..." he shushed her in earnest. "In the past, all in the past..."

"Start over?" rising her head up, she looked him in the eye with those wide orbs... before starting lean inward.

"I can't," he rolled his head to the side, Ellen's lips missing his face completely and quickly pulling back in fearful confusion, "I can't... I can't, I'm on duty. XO remember? Understood. Uh, I have to get back to the CIC."

"Girlfriend?" Ellen chuckled darkly.

"Official business," Saul hurriedly explained.

"Feels like old times," she sighed.

"I'd explain," he offered up, though he knew it wasn't much, "but..."

"I understand," she accepted, which honestly surprised Saul for an instance.

Ellen was rarely so accepting, usually she was more spoiled. But maybe when she had asked to start over, she had meant it seriously... and that intrigued Saul.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he offered her a genuine grinned, before planting a quick kiss on Ellen's lips. "As soon as I can..."

* * *

The moment the _Raptor_ had touched down on the deck, Felix slipped under the still opening hatch and was throwing his arms around Dualla's shoulders.

"Thanks for coming, Felix," Anastasia couldn't even begin to try and suppress her grin at the sight of a familiar face. Separating from her long-time friend her eyes quickly traveled up to the wing of the still cooling _Raptor_ and took not of the grim looking man standing before her. "You must be Lieutenant Moneti."

"Delighted to be abroad this..." for a moment Alhex cast his eyes around the dirty and substandard docking bay before managing to come up with the proper words, "...this '_station_' of yours."

"How bad is the situation?" Gaeta was quick to try and deflect the situation, as Dualla narrowed her eyes at the man's obvious dislike of her current position.

"Dock workers are up in arms," she explained as the young woman led them into the bowels of the station, "and we've had to shut down all traffic to docking section '_E_' and '_F_' for ring one. It's not our largest sector for cargo and passenger transfer but it handles almost all official government and military traffic."

"It is also the section that handles the majority of the Hegemony traffic to _Caprica, Aerilon, Picon and Libra_," Alhex added grimly.

"Yes," Dualla quickly continued, "it's the only secure location away from the civilian populations we can manage for the aliens," when she noticed the sudden glare from Alhex she knew maybe she had overstepped her words. "Don't get me wrong, a lot of people are grateful to the Space Guard but some of your people can look a little-"

"Disturbing?" Alhex grumbled threateningly.

"No," Anastasia was quick to defend her position, "it's just that some of the women were getting a little... uncomfortable with their husbands around the Asari... then the husbands starting getting uncomfortable when their wives were getting too friendly with the Asari. Since ring one on the station contains our commercial and military sections we concentrated them and the other aliens here."

"Sounds like segregation to me," the man continued to press the matter in a less then negative light.

"I didn't mean to insult your people, Lieutenant," she tried to offer him a diplomatic but more importantly sympathetic smile, "but no one's been complaining and incident reports have dropped to near-zero. We only gave your ships exclusive access to ring one, at no point are your people barred from going anywhere else in the station and we've even been encouraging cross culture exchanges in commercial section '_A_' to help ease tensions and distract the refugees with something exotic."

"Has our meeting been planned with the Symone Devaux and the dockyard chief?" Felix asked, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah," Dee nodded. "You got one of the few open rooms we have left in the commercial sector. Everything else's gone to housing and businesses that can't be licensed anywhere else on the station."

Felix suddenly put a hand on her shoulder, forcing the young woman to pause in the cramped hallway and turn towards him.

"How are you, Dee?" Felix asked.

"Good," she sighed and nearly kicked herself because she didn't totally believe it herself. "Alright not so much. But _Galactica's_ in laid up in dry-dock there's not much need for me abroad. Transfers been good and the _Anchorage_ does keep me busy but its days like this that makes me want to be back with the Old Man."

"Commander will have you back the moment they're waxing _Galactica's_ hull," the Lieutenant offered her a friendly smile. "Now I believe we have a set meeting with the station leaders."

* * *

"You can't be serious," Tigh stared at her incredulously, as if she had grown a second head. "This is one damn good joke Madam President."

"I'm very far from joking, Colonel," Laura stared him over the edge of the conference table, cool steely eyes locking with his over her thick rimmed glasses.

"I know these are uncertain times," he kept his cool but the tension was thick, "and this has been a difficult transition for you but you what you are suggesting is just adding another stone to a mountain ready to topple. You are talking about a man I owe my life to many times over.

"Excuse me, Colonel," she twirled a pencil in her fingers, seemingly more interested in the writing instrument then him, "I do appreciate how difficult this is for you to hear, believe me. But I would advise you right now not to say anything that you will regret. I need to know if Adama is the best choice for what I am suggesting."

"No," Saul spat as if there was something foul tasting in his mouth.

"Colonel," she sighed, stopping the next twirl of her pencil and setting him with a steely glare, "I chose to talk to you because you are a man known for speaking his mind and more importantly the truth. You are also a man who holds the Commander in the highest regard. So I'm going to ask you again, is Adama is the best choice."

He held his tongue for a long moment but from the grinding of his jaw Laura knew he was fighting to keep his words to himself.

He failed...

"Yes…" Tigh finally declared, though it was quiet and forced.

"Good," Laura grinned, happy with the answer she was looking for. "I'm sorry to have pulled you away from your duty."

"Its fine," Saul nodded as he rose to leave. "I was just with my wife."

"Your wife?" Laura shot him a confused look, for the short time Laura had known him, Colonel Tigh had never mentioned a wife, let alone her condition after the Cylon attack.

"It turns out she's been unconscious aboard the Olympic Carrier ever since the attack," Saul shrugged, still itching to get to the door and back to his wife. "When Ellen stepped off that shuttle, I thought I was going to pass out."

"Oh Gods," Laura tried to stifle a smile but somehow it just exploded on her face instead. "That's fantastic. Ellen? Your wife's name is Ellen?"

"Yes, it is... Ellen," Saul answered, rolling the name over his tongue for just a second longer. "Ellen Tigh."

"I'd very much like to meet your wife, Colonel," she began ushering towards the door. "Say dinner between my staff and the Commanders."

"Sounds doable," the Colonel nodded. "But if you excuse me..."

"Yes of course," she gestured to the door and watched the Colonel go. "Give her my best, Colone."

The hatch opened and Tigh made his departure, followed in close succession by Billy sticking his head in through the open frame.

"Madam President, you have a visitor," the young man announced as he ushered two people into the conference room.

"Derek!" Laura exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around the man, quickly detaching to throw her arms around his companion. "Sierra! It's so good to see you."

Never in her wildest dreams had she imaged seeing Press Secretary Sierra Lorena or Vice President Leipziger's chief of staff again. In her mind, she was the only on of three people out of the total forty-five ministers, secretaries and representatives that made up Adars cabinet.

But she quickly pulled back however as she noticed the hugs weren't being returned in earnest, more as a formaility.

"What?" she looked between the pair, trying to understand the looks on their faces. "You look like someone ran over your cat."

"We need you to resign," it was out of Gardner's mouth in a second and the man looked like he was going to be psychically ill the moment he did.

"Resign?" her look must have been dumbfounded. "Why in the world would I being resigning?"

"Because you are not the President," Lorena announced, the look on the woman's face a dark flash of emotion. "James Leipziger is."

"Leipziger?" she said the name over again, not truly believing it. "Leipziger survived the attack!"

"The Vice President has been sheltered at the emergency compound under the old Fort Brampton," Gardner explained and from the bags under his eyes and the gaunt look of his face, Roslin could guess it was not an enjoyable stay. "Rescue workers only unearth us two-days ago."

"And where is the Vice President?" Laura couldn't shake his absence, Leipziger only ever showed his face when he knew he had the high ground, the stereotypical political backbone of cowardice was bred into the man thoroughly.

"Suffered serious injury during the attack," Sierra explained before she could question any further. "He was medi-vac'd to Archer City for immediate treatment."

"As you can understand, with the Vice President alive," Derek continued on and for just an instance he seemed to sink into the conference room carpet, "your presidency is technically... illegal."

"Illegal in what sense?" Laura paced the room, she was nervous but for some odd reason she felt assured. "That I was the highest government official to answer the Case Orange? That I've been in office for sixteen-days and haven't been legitimately challenged once? Or that there is something else going on because why would the Vice President be so interested in removing me from office when he's seriously injured... from the look on Gardner's face I'm guessing critically."

"If you resign," Lorena wasn't deterred by her supposition, "Kumara could move into office temporarily... until Leipziger recovers of course."

"After me Secretary Nordstrom is the only minister in office..." Laura pondered out loud before she locked eyes with the woman who was quickly becoming his enemy, "after you of course Lorena. How the frak is Kumara going to assume the Presidency if me or Jack won't stand down?"

"I will abdicate," Sierra answered without pause or qualm, "and we've already contacted the Secretary of Civil Defense and he also agreed to resign in order to allow Kumara to assume the office... only if you resign first. Then Kumara can take over the office."

"He's promised to keep all three of you on as advisors," Derek seemed hopeful at that thought, "and when Leipziger resumes the Presidency he'll reappoint you to your previous positions."

"You'll excuse me if I'm still stuck on Kumara taking the office," Laura waved the woman off as an annoyance. "Oh, I know it mean Kumara would take over the oath into office. The question is why would I want to move the King of _Virgon_ into office? He has barely any experience and he's a bigot."

"You were the Secretary of Education for barely two-years," Sierra wasn't backing down and was quickly rising as the primary antagonist of this debate. "Kumara was being trained at five-years old for the chance that he could ascend to the throne. We need a real head of the administration, so one who knows how the government works."

"This is coming from the Vice President?" Laura growled at her.

"This is the Vice President's intent," Derek however was the first to jump in to the melee.

"Derek," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she took a deep breath, "I have no idea what that means. Did the Vice President tell you this directly?"

"Obviously there was no major discussion," Lorena fumed; obviously she had expected Laura to be a push over. "He was being loaded onto a medical transport to Archer City."

For a long beat nothing was said as both side of the argument took their sweet time glaring at each other, just looking for a reason to go off on the other for any tiny infraction.

"Look," Sierra seemed to be restraining her words and Laura really wished she wold say what she meant, "we're treading on thin ice. We have Cylons, food riots on Gemenon, the rebuilding of infrastructure on _Caprica_... things are just too unstable. We don't need the Colonies to see-"

"To see a soft, indecisive woman commanding the people of twelve worlds," Laura cut her off in anger. "I know I am the first female President but are we really hung up on the gender of the Commander in Chief?"

"Madam President," Derek interjected, "I strongly suggest that you-"

"You're not in any position to suggest how I take my coffee!" Laura shouted, Derek again looking like he was going to disappear into the floor. "That said, how would this work. I resign and then..."

"You say you cannot in good conscious follow the ideals or convictions of late President Adar," Sierra easily proved why she had appointed to the position of Adar's Press Secretary with that spout of elegant play of words.

For a while Laura was silent, they were all silent, no one talking but no one willing to show their cards.

"I want to talk to Leipziger," Laura announced after a pause.

"The Vice President will be in recovery for several weeks-"

"I won't a resignation until after I talk to the Leipziger," she cut Derek off before he could shot her down. "_Colonial One_ can be planet-side in an hour. I intend to speak to Leipziger and get this matter settled..."

* * *

Six climbed through what had been the main check-in area of the spaceport, scorched wood and pulverized concrete covered the ground... she tried not to look at the occasional withered body that poked up from the rubble.

Hammerville had been teeming with life and activity the last time he had been here.

Now it was a bombed out shell that even scavengers feared to pick at.

"How are you doing?" she looked up as Lass approached, his paws padding through the rubble towards her covered in a thick layer of dirt.

"I'm a little stiff," she shrugged, wiping her hands on her pants as she rose to meet him and still barely having the top of her head reach his chest. "I'm still trying to get used to this body. I mean, I know it's identical, but... even after all this time, I still feel awkward."

"You have a new body, a new life," he stated, tongue wagging in the corner of his mouth. "You have to adjust in order to begin living again."

"Living like how?" she sighed, kicking a broken spike in the mess. "The man I loved is missing in a disaster I caused and the Cylons will never have me back after what I did. Even if I did stay and we had destroyed the humans it would have been only a matter of time before we started turning on each other and wiped ourselves out."

"You don't know that," Lass said honestly. "Your race is young, maybe the attack on the Colonials was you finally seeing how far you could go and pulling back before it was too late."

"I want to believe you..." she murmured, "but I highly doubt that."

Any further conversation ended when Ocinis wandered between them, flared nose on the ground, huffing and puffing as he trailed an invisible line across the ground.

"What have you got?" Six asked, again wishing to change the topic.

"Sweat, adrenaline, carbonized ash... I smell you..." the alien turned its upside down head towards her. "What was you."

"Your remains are spread over this large quadrant," Lass announced after taking in a deep breath. "My guess is that your body was vaporized instantly when the facility was bombed... along with forty-three other individuals..."

Six didn't want to think that it was because of her that those forty-three people and possibly hundreds of others had died because of her... and that was just in this one location. All over the Colonies humans had perished into the millions because she had sold them all out.

"I am still tracking," Ocinis wasn't done and he dove back into his work, zig zagging through the rubble as Lass and Six kept close to him. "Exhaust fuel, sweat, nucleonic particles, refined Neo-steel ash... Space Guard shuttles landed in this vicinity."

"Evacuation records for this sector say that four shuttle groups lifted off from here," Lass concurred as he consulted his wrist computer to be sure of the details. "One to Kuff in the north with forty-five survivors, sixty-seven to Sterling Peninsula, eighty-two to Archer City in the south and one hundred eleven went west to Qent."

"We can't search all four ends of the continent?" Six gasped at the idea.

Qent alone was massive, Six was honestly surprised when the sea side tourist hub of Caprica had not been among one of the first cities hit during the attack. After Delphi it was the third largest city on the Colony and by now its normal population of five-million would have ballooned with the thousands of refugees being shipped down from the nuked remains of Caprica City.

"That is why I am here," Lass calmed her and for a second Six gave him a confused look before she realized what he meant. The Pazensh had been chosen because unlike Ocinis who could only track a smell over a long distant, Lass could tell her which scent was Gaius'.

Falling down onto all six of his limbs, the officer set to work, head down and prowling through the debris to find what he was looking for. Where Ocinis' tracking had been more fluid and smooth, Lass' was jerky, lurching from one position to another, turning back on itself and around in circles. It took Six a bit to remember that his kind developed their tracking to solve a maze, not for stealth or hunting, his movements were more efficient then fluid.

"I have the scent of your mate," Lass finally announced after one final and deep waft through the air. "He survived the bombing and moved through the rubble in this direction."

"He's alive?" Six could barely hide her excitement, like a giddy little girl she was shaking with excitement and anticipation.

"That I cannot be certain," her hopes were suddenly dashed by Lass' deadpan answer. Pointing his muzzle to the ground he pointed after a trail of black dots that speckled the ground in a trail before him. "You see these dark marks in the ash... its blood."

Six could almost feel her stomach drop like it had suddenly been filled with concrete.

"How bad?" she asked, having to know how bad the damage was... the damage she caused.

"He made it to the evacuate site," Ocinis was quick to insert some good news, though it wasn't much, "but from the amount of blood pooling on the ground and the increase presence of his scent trail I'd guess he collapsed."

"Scent trails of a female Tangean and a Drazi male reach from this direction," Lass added as he sniffed out the two new scents. "My guess is medics from the shuttle."

"That's what it is!" the young Folk was suddenly bouncing on his paws in excitement, then suddenly sober. "Its cerebrospinal fluid..."

"He suffered an inter-cranial hemorrhage," Lass deduced, his basic medical training from the academy starting to come back to him. "Medics would have done a quick scan and the moment they confirmed it would have attempted to aspirated the rupture and then repair it with stereotactic surgery."

"But is he alive?" she continued to press, wanting to know if her love was still alive... or just another cold body forgotten in the chaos.

"If he had died the medics would have reported the loss of the patient," Ocinis interceded immediately, putting Six's mind at ease. "Tagging the body for later retrieval is standard procedure."

"What about looters?" Six questioned, still not entirely too convinced. "They could have moved the body."

"No other scents are newer then ten-days and none intersect his scent trail," the Folk answered.

"Scent is moving to the southern portion of the spaceport," Lass asked as he took one final whiff. "What transports departed the southern quadrant?"

"Only those bound for Archer City lifted off from here," Lass said after consulted his data for a second.

"Then he boarded the transport bound for Archer City," the Pazensh stated matter of fact.

"Scans taken during the flight say," Ocinis again consulted his wrist comm for the specifics, "out of the eighty-two taken, twenty three were men. Breaking that down, ten were within the age range of twenty-five to thirty-five."

"Ten people is still too many," Six could help but moan, ten people meant ten different directions to go.

"Check the pilot flight reports," Lass tried to narrow the search parameters. "Look for which shuttle left with a Tangean female and a Drazi male abroad."

"An emergency medical scram-shuttle lifted off with six-patients... one male," Ocinis glanced up at Six, waiting for some kind of emotional response or outburst.

But the Cylon was completely quiet.

"Flight reports individuals were taken to the medical center in Archer City for treatment," Ocinis finished off finally.

"Then contact your shuttle," Six was set, her face hard as she began to move off towards a better landing zone to depart from. "We're going to Archer City."

"Huntleader Six..." Ocinis' voice however stopped her in her tracks, more importantly the normally gurgling voice was abruptly soft, "there were two deaths reported in flight and another upon landing."

"Was one of them Gaius?" she asked.

"Unknown," he answered earnestly. "Shuttle crews never logged the genders and records were lost after that point when the _Dynamic Year_ went down over Caprica City."

"Then we'll have to go to find out for sure..."

* * *

"Don't try and blame my dock crews for this!" _Rangar Anchorage's_ commanding officer, Captain Symone Devaux nearly knocked the table over when she slammed her fist into the metal surface. "We have said all along that the docking equipment on this _Anchorage_ is decades old and has been long corroded by _Ragnar's_ atmosphere. You can't just haul a space station out of the scrap yard and expect it to function at the level _Rhapsody Station_ did! Hell, _Rhapsody_ never had to handling the amount of traffic we get!"

"We know the computer malfunctioned," Gaeta tried to work her down but that looked like a small chance in hell, "but that malfunction could have been caused by operator error."

"_Ragnar Anchorage_ handles food shipments to _Caprica_ for over 500-million a day," Alhex sat beside him, cold eyes not taking Devaux's display of psychical authority as a serious threat. "Cut that and half a billion people would starve to death in under a week. That's a margin that's much too narrow for me. This has to be fixed and now."

"Even if that were true," Symone threw up her hands in frustration, "what do you honestly expect? My people are conscripted workers from the crushing number of refugees that have been dumped on us from the other ships. Then they are forced to work triple shifts on machines older then themselves and with only a two-hour crash course of how it works."

"Just get those ships moving and then we'll talk," Alhex glowered at her, not liking how Devaux was such a loose cannon with her emotions and a military officer at that. "Worker conditions can be addressed when we don't have a planet facing mass starvation, I promise you that later."

"'_Then we'll talk_'... it's always '_later_' with you people," Symone began passing against the wall, as if she were a trapped tiger in a cage. "You know, it's funny that when your cargo is delivered on time, my calls don't get returned, but the minute someone's bag missing, I've got face time with the President and the Commander? Hmm, maybe we should just start having more glitches."

"Is that a threat?" Alhex's voice grew dangerously deep.

"Captain Devaux," Felix snapped a hand onto Moneti's shoulder, psychically telling him to back down, "we're not here to assign blame-"

"Maybe you aren't, Lieutenant," Heath Gladfelter, a tall man with a thick _Virgon_ accent and a crisp suit to match, was quick to speak up from his formerly silent position, "but the _Virgon_ government will want to know who was responsible for the destruction of our ship. In these trying times we must take care of our own from outside threats... both domestic and foreign."

"Then I suggest you start with your ship's captain," Symone's eyes burned with outrage, "who panicked and fired his engines _inside_ the docking bay _against_ direct orders!"

"Now, don't try and blame this on us, Captain," Gladfelter didn't seemed the least bit concerned as he waved her off. "The _Virgon_ people are the victims here. That ship was carrying valuable supplies home."

"Don't you dare try to play this off on us!" Devaux spat. "The _Ingram_ was carrying textile goods... primarily luxury clothing! You lost some consumer cargo... Sophia Petto lost her life!"

"Yes, that was a tragedy..." he was silent for only a moment and Felix prayed very hard he wouldn't say anything to make the situation explode. "But what was our captain to do? His ship was placed in serious danger and he reacted... at the cost of his life and sixteen of his crew. By the Lords of Kobol, King Kumara means to see we are compensated for this damage!"

Knowing that he had the last word and the technical high ground, Gladfelter swiftly rose from his seat, snatching up his papers.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," he gave a quick bow before scuttling off towards the door. "I must attend to a pressing matter."

"They should have just told my people right off the bat what Colonial priorities are," Symone punched the table again, not paying any attention to the trickle of blood that seeped from her open knuckles. "Should have told our knuckle draggers to service their pleasure crafts with a chain around their ankle!"

Alhex suddenly received a chirp from his wrist comm, tapping the half forearm length strap and watching as a tiny figure appeared before the tips of his fingers.

"_Lieutenant Moneti_," Alli gleamed from her miniaturized position. "_I have finished my structural and chemical analysis of the accident scene. The accident was caused by equipment failure. A clustering of microchips blew out, creating a system operator error message that pushed up the transport elevator's launch time from fifty minutes to five seconds_."

"Thank you, Alli," Alhex nodded before he deactivated the hologram. "Well we can obviously rule out operator error and label this an accident."

"How is that possible?" Felix shook his head in confusion. "_Galactica_ and _Theia's_ engineers gave us the okay at _Ragnar_ before the attack."

"I've downloaded the textual format of Alli's report," Moneti continued, his eyes loosing focus for a second as his internal implants began to read off the record. "Looks like the contractors who built the _Anchorage_ installed substandard chips throughout the entire system. It was the middle of the war… government was looking for the lowest bid to build this installation. President is having engineers shipped over from the _Battlestars Prometheus, Hyperion_ and the _Defender Redoubtable_ to check our whole system out. _Victory_ is sending over a team also and we're checking them all out."

"This is going to play havoc with our scheduling," Symone was trying to already calculate the timetables in her head and from her furrowed brow they weren't looking good. "How long until those teams can get those microchips replaced and the dock back online?"

"Several hours, day tops," Alhex commented. "We're going to have to reroute the controls to the other docking bays until new chips can be installed."

"The problems dockside run deeper than a few microchips, Mr. Gaeta," Symone was back in her anguished mood again. "It isn't about priorities. We're not part of the ruling class, so we're stuck doing the dirty work."

"'_Ruling class_'?" Alhex shot her a confused expression. "Where'd you get that?

"You ever wonder why all the pilots and the officers in charge come from the rich Colonies like _Caprica_, and _Virgon_, _Tauron_..." she gave the Guard officer a dark stare of defiance, "while all the knuckle draggers come from the poor Colonies like _Aerilon_, _Sagittaron_ and _Gemenon_?"

"I'm aware of that Devaux," Felix interceded, "and I will do everything I can to make the President understand we need an increase resources and personnel to the station but we're stretched thin in all directions. We're understaffed and unfunded everywhere."

Symone however was already taking her leave.

"I just hope she can shore up the numbers quick," she commented as she made for the door hatch of the conference room. "Before someone else gets killed."

He sighed and ground his head into the cold table, trying to get the seething headache that screamed as his senses to go away. But this wasn't a head of personal discomfort; this was a head of absolute annoyance.

"Felix," Alhex's voice, now free of the previous annoyance that had filled it, tried to rouse him back to reality. "We have a meeting with President Roslin in ten minutes."

"Yeah," he sighed wearily, "let's go..."

* * *

It was a horrible pain, harsh against her bruised ribs and broken hand. Her face was lucky enough only to take the first hit and then left alone for more critical targets. Fine cream skin was now marred by bloodied cuts, by terrible contusions and the tiny sensors attached to its surface were the only interruption to the rainbow of blue and black swelling.

A cold towel, it whipped across her lips and for a second she felt intense relief wash over her body as the damp cloth refreshed her skin.

"How you feeling?" Helena's voice was distant as she removed the cloth and placed it back into the bowl of ice water.

"Like someone dropped _Pegasus_ on me," Gina tried to grin but it was more of a terrible grimace.

"Doctor says you have three broken ribs and all the bones in your left hand are broken," Cain tried to put it as easily as she could but no matter how you phrased it, the diagnosis sounded bad. "But he's amazed you're still awake."

"Thank my Cylon resilience," she grinned up at her lover. "This walking toaster can take a frakking amount of hits before she goes down."

"Don't say that," the other woman cooed, "you're not a machine, you're a member of my crew. I won't have people going after each other on my ship."

"Thank you, Helena," Gina managed a real smile this time. "But you can't protect me all the time... and you shouldn't have to."

"I love you," Cain sadly placed her hands over the swelling bruise that dominated her left check.

"I know," Inviere proudly smiled. "But there is something I have to ask you. I want to go on the rescue mission."

"What?" Helena almost fell off her stool. "No not in your condition."

"Your _Raptor_ was lost because its dradis was almost blind," Gina explained, "its communications couldn't function in the planet's rings and from what I know you're going to send yet another _Raptor_ after them. What are the chances is what happened the first time doesn't repeat itself."

"I've lost too many people already," Cain groused. "I can't loss you too."

"You won't," Gina reassured her. "All I'm suggesting is you give me a team, some people and a _Raptor_. Once my modifications are done, we'll be able to see trouble coming from miles away. Please Helena I have to do this."

"But why?" Helena pressed.

"The crew knows me as your lover and a tech," Gina's eyes were downcast for a moment before she started back into her lover's white orbs. "They don't think of me as a member of the crew. I have to prove myself to them, and you, that I am all in for this ship making it home as much as they are."

"I just can't loss someone to the Cylons again," Helena could barely hide the depression in her voice. "Not after last time."

"Last time?" Gina asked.

"My father... my father was a career military man," Cain recounted, "a general known for his devout attitude that combat was everything. But when he married my mother he gave it all up. Had my sister and me, lived in a small town on _Tauron_ and we were happy. Then the Cylons invaded."

"The _Fourth Battle of Tauron_..." Inviere already knew what she was talking about, "when we conquered the planet."

"News reporters, the President, even my dad swore that the _Battlestars_ were going to protect us. They were wrong..." Helena grumbled with hate. "My father always said, '_You're born, you live and you die. There are no do-over's. No second chances to make things right if you frak them up the first time. Not in this life anyway_.'"

Gina knew what was happening next. "You lost them... "

"All of them," the other woman shrugged. "The Centurions were invading and they were evacuating us out of the town on trucks. We got lost trying to find where to go and got caught in the crossfire. My mother was separated. My father told me to watch my sister while he went back for her. I was little, the gun fire scared me. In the chaos I lost hold of my sister and hid. When I finally got up enough courage to come out... everyone was gone. My parents died trying to get across the street to us... they never found my sister's body."

"Helena, I'm so sorry," Gina reached a hand out to comfort her companion. "But you are not going to lose me."

"I know," Helena sighed before turning to regard her partner. "Systems Analyst Gina Inviere. I am here by granting your rescue mission. The moment the doctor clears you, head down to the hanger deck and start your modifications to any _Raptor_ of your choosing. Lieutenant Shaw's mission awaits your completion."

"Thank you, Helena," Gina smiled.

Turning to leave, Admiral Cain had made it almost to the door when a nurse intercepted her. Behind her blue scrubs, face mask hanging around her neck and disheveled hair, Helena could tell this woman was overworked and under some serious pressure. While _Pegasus_' _Viper_ and marine squadrons had taken the brunt of the most recent battles, the attack at the _Scorpia Shipyards_ had seen a nuke strike just above this section of the _Battlestar_. The result was a loss of over half their medical staff, leaving nurses like this one pressed into situations they normally would never be in.

"Admiral," she stammered, unsure of her position as she shifted from right to left. "I thought you'd like to see the results of Ms. Inviere's examinations before we informed her."

"What is this?" Helena asked, trying to read over the report she had just been handed by the girl.

"Those are the results of a SAECK," the nurse answered but a look from Helena indicated she still didn't understand. "It's a... it... it stands for sexual assault evidence collection kit... it came back positive."

"Gina was sexually assaulted... "

* * *

"_Where are all the people_?" Sim'Lohan's flash light wavered up and down the corridor behind, catching shadows of fallen papers, discarded trash and broken panels, before turning back to the cramped cockpit that could barely contained the three of them, let alone a full flight-crew.

"Computer records say the lifeboat launched. We're gonna assume everyone evacuated okay," Tom too had a head buzzing with questions, even as he tapped his radio. "Meier, start scanning the local space for that lifeboat. Jusi'Lada, find out if we can get this wreck moving."

"_Sir_..." Jusi'Lada however hesitated, taking special not of the report she had plucked off the forward flight console, "_I count nineteen families signed on. 79-people, three crew. Lifeboat wouldn't hold a third of that_."

"I know," Tom grimly nodded, knowing that something wasn't sitting right. "Meier? Any luck?"

"_Think I found something_," the man announced over the radio speaker. "_Ship matches a mishmash between a Rilo-class freighter and a Drake-passenger hauler. Layout looks about right. Seems to me any survivors would hold up in the hydroponics dome where the emergencies supplies and life-support systems are. Section is designated a disaster shelter since its reinforced against radiation_."

"Good work," he nodded. "We'll start there..."

* * *

"_I'm sorry_," Roslin's voice sounded distant over the tiny speaker on the meeting room desk, "_but my advisors report that the Anchorage has all the resources it needs to function, Lieutenant_."

"I know what's in the report madam President," the man didn't hide a sneer, "I wrote it for you. But we need those increases in station operations or everything is going to grind to a halt yet again."

Sleep was starting to wear on his face and no matter how much he tried, the burning indignation from both sides of the argument was making his mediating near impossible.

"_Real world reality sometimes takes precedence over comfort," _Laura was quick to counter. "_I have food riots on Canceron, a brewing separatist movement on Sagitarron and an increasingly pushy Virgon acting like they rule the Colonies now."_

_"Ragnar maybe the lifeline to Caprica,_" Adama added in,_ "but its needs are not paramount."_

"We have operational and safety concerns that won't wait for the government to turn things around," Gaeta tried to convince them, "but you must realize most of the workers on that station have not had a day off since the original attack on the Colonies? It's like slave labor."

_"Don't be absurd," _the President nearly laughed at his audacity.

"The men and women aboard that station are stuck there," Felix tried to rationalize it for them. "They can't leave, they can't transfer. They have no control over their lives. Only about a hundred of them volunteered, most were conscripted and given a day's worth of training."

"_And the work is hard, we know that," _Laura sighed right back at him, as if the information not only was old, it was boring to listen to,_ "Do they think they're having a picnic at the food processing plants, munitions or waste processing? The orbital fleet is filled with ships with people working under horrific conditions, and nobody's having a good time. But if we are to return to the life before the attack we have to keep working hard."_

"The _Anchorage_ maybe a lifeline," again he tried to make them see reason, "but we've got the largest orbital fleet in the Colonies depending on us, two thirds the military anchor off for supplies from our station and the compliment is four-times what it should be. There's already been an accidents-"

_"Accidents happen," _again he was cut off by the President before he could make his point,_ "but my experts have assured me that the crew numbers and resource quota you're being given is more than sufficient for safe and efficient running of Ragnar Anchorage."_

"Well, I think that if we at least start talking to them about improving working conditions and living conditions that we'll get the problem under control."

"_Put them in the brig," _Adama's voice suddenly cut him off,_ "have those that don't like it just sweat it out."_

"Commander!" for once in his life Felix felt a rush of outrage at the normally stoic Old Man, "They're just trying to-"

"_They are interfering with the operations of a facility critical to the survival of millions!" _his superior hit right back._ "That isn't out of line, that's negligent. I expect that once we-_"

"You make any arrests and I'll lodge a personal complaint with Admiral Vonaka," Moneti's declaration was short, to the point and got both the Colonial leaders to shut up for at least a few seconds.

"_And what would a Hegemony Admiral do with an internal Colonial matter_?" Roslin's voice was almost a hiss, even if it was hidden under a perfect diplomatic tone.

"Under the 1,523rd Proclamation of Sentience, conscription is considered an illegal practice," Alhex explained, even if he was leaning on the far edge of the desk, picking dirt out from under his fingernails. "No sentient can be forced to do work based on the demand of a ruling authority. While rarely enforced among our allies its violation is considered an infringement on the basic and inalienable rights of a sentient... which the Hegemony and more specifically the Space Guard take as a personal insult. An insult that in the past has led to a complete severing of relations."

Felix was suddenly thankful that for once Alhex's usually abrasive personality was working towards his benefit and he seized on his possible threat to drive his point home.

"Madame President," he sighed, "do you see what's happening? We don't know how long we're gonna be stuck up here before the Colonies are livable again. If we start forcing people and children to work against their will with no escape then we are merely enslaving them to a social class, stratifying our entire culture in barely a few years.

_"Lieutenant, you have to understand," _Roslin said,_ "simply getting these people to volunteer will leave us with inadequate numbers and..." _an audible growl from Alhex however intercut her._ "Fine! Lieutenant, if you can talk the workers down I won't send in any soldiers. But we need the Anchorage to keep functioning."_

"Madam President," Felix ground his teeth to the gum saying this, "it would really help for them to hear from you personally. They think right now that we are avoiding them and I know for a fact the general feeling among the workers is that I was sent in to act as your hand when you have no interest in the situation.

"I_'m truly sorry for that Lieutenant_," Roslin said. "_But I am currently on an important trip to Caprica and cannot possibly attend for the current and foreseeable future. I know you'll perform fine in my absence._"

_"I have every confidence you can it make it work," _Adama added before the line cut.

Just soon enough for Felix to turn on his heels, reach the nearest chair and throw it across the room. The metallic piece of furniture clanged off the nearest wall as he heaved a deep breath and tried to calm himself.

"Feel better?" Alhex asked, the sudden eruption of violence seemed to amuse him immensely.

"Yeah," Gaeta nodded after a beat. "Thanks again... but you just managed to burn one of the few bridges between the Colonials and the Space Guard."

"I know the President and Commander don't like the Hegemony meddling in their affairs," he shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal, "but your people are on a slippery slope. The Hegemony hasn't enacted a conscription charge since the _Kaldera War_ a decade after its foundation. Barely months after the war an estimated half the formerly conscripted soldiers that were out-processed rioted when a post-war economy was unwilling to hire them and the government refused to pay them compensation."

"We had a similar problem following the Cylon War," Felix expounded on. "Couple thousand soldiers didn't like being tossed out with no prospects for financial security."

"Well," Alhex couldn't help but smirk, "the Hegemony may have only been eleven-cycles old at the time but our empire still was massive compared to the Colonies. Close to five-billion former soldiers rioted over three hundred individual worlds."

"A bit more than us then?" Felix piqued an eyebrow at him.

"We eventually got it under control with an economic aid package," the man added, "but one thing the law makers did was declare conscription, military or otherwise, illegal as a violation of a sentient beings civil rights-"

He was cut off as Alhex's wrist comm gave a sudden chirp, a tiny holo-screen appeared just in his palm as backwards alien text scrolled over its face.

"Damn it," he cursed.

"I assume the news just got leaked?" Felix already knew what it was about.

"Alli says she intercepting a lot of internal comm traffic inside the station... none of its happy," Alhex announced in a disgusted tone. "The scuttlebutt came down that the engineers are only making repairs, not improvements."

"Wonderful," he snorted. "We'll need to set up meeting with Captain Devaux."

"She'll be spitting venom..." Alhex murmured before quickly being lost in a thought, "though to me that's a turn-on. If the dockworkers got zip then they'll strike and if the docks are closed, so is the _Anchorage_."

"As far as the President's concerned, they're bound by government law," Felix injected the ironic tone into voice and it wasn't lost on his companion. "They can't quit and they can't go on strike. Anything beyond that could be considered treason."

"_Lieutenant," _Dualla's voice chimed in over the same speaker he had been using for his failed update to the President,_ "we've got a problem."_

"Big frakking surprise," he mumbled. "What is it, Dee?"

"_We're up to asses in waiting transports and the dockworkers are calling in sick," _the explanation was quick but the burning fire in Felix's stomach grew hot immediately.

"Was there a radiation spill from the crash?" one dangerous scenario was playing over in his head after another as he tried to contemplate the possibilities. "How serious is it?"

"_Well, as far as Doc Cottle and the medic-drones the Victory sent over," _Dualla answered quickly,_ "none of them are actually sick. Infirmary reports no increased patient loads. Workers just calling in sick."_

"Dockworkers maybe conscripted but station regulations are strict about illness," Alhex nodded. "Dockworker sneezes on a crate, infects a crew-member on an outbound transport and creates a medical crisis far from port. It can also be used to get around sanctions and work stoppages."

"In other words, we have a strike on our hands..."

* * *

"Are you sure you're alright?"

Sharon tried not to roll her eyes, even as Helo's eyes continued to bear into the back of her head. Instead she used the distraction to wipe the sweat from her forehead and clean her hands off on the flight jacket tied around her waist.

"You've asked that at least eight times over the last mile," she grumbled as the strain filled her words and she fixed him with a direct stare. "And we've been hiking for hours now. Can't we stop."

Already the sun had set and as the hours treaded on they were starting to slow, exhaustion breaking them down as they went. It had been miles since Helo's rescue of Sharon but still he pressed on with the same vigorous energy he had had in their first hour.

"We just need to put a little more distance on us," Agathon tried to keep up but the sheen of sweat on his forehead hinted that he was even more worse off than her.

"Any more distance and we'll fall of the planet," Sharon muttered, finally coming to a halt on top of the forest hill. "Either stop now with me or take a trip over the edge by yourself."

Sighing, Helo gestured towards the ground beside one of the billowing tree trunks and Sharon was quick to jump at the chance to rest her burning legs.

"Here," Karl slipped the flight jacket from his shoulders and offered it over to his companion. A bewildered glance from the young woman wasn't lost on him. "You look cold."

"It's not that cold," Sharon couldn't help to hide her grin as she pulled the crisp fabric over her body. "Besides there's room for two under this jacket."

For a second Sharon wondered if she had gone too far, said too much. But slowly, fluidly, Helo pushed down beside her and took just a small portion of the jacket to cover his bare arms.

"How did you get that?" she pointed towards one of a myriad of tiny white slashes that coasted down Helo's upper arm, creating a grated appearance of white flesh.

"Slipped when I was playing pyramid as a kid," he shrugged at the question. "Ended up losing the game."

"No, really," Sharon giggled as she playfully punched him in the arm, knowing without a doubt he was playing her.

"You're not the sort of girl who finds scars a turn on?" Helo smirked at her.

"No," she shrugged off the question sincerely. "I was just trying to get to know you. And yes I do find scars attractive."

"Ah," he hesitated just a second before he continued, "my first assignment as a cadet was during Southern Riots on _Canceron_. When the Laharans tried to take Federalists during the last weeks of the fighting I was on a civilian protection detail, sent to evacuate the city mayor and his family. Laharan fired a rocket propelled grenade at our convoy, should have killed me and everyone in the vehicle... instead a gust of wind caught it and hit a wall beside us."

"Frak," Boomer murmured under her breath at his sheer luck.

"Woke up in a hospital ward on _Nuous Anchorage_ with a metal of my chest and my leg in a cast," Helo bitterly asserted. "It was my first and shortest tour of duty."

For a while they were quiet, only the creak and groan of the forest branch swaying in the wind around them.

"You know a fire always makes things nicer," Sharon sighed as she turned to look at her companion.

"Yes..." Helo was starting to lean in towards her, "yes it would..."

* * *

Roslin stared out the window and for a second she was absolutely amaze.

Skyscrapers, clear skies, cars and people going about their business... it was hard to image that two-thousand miles north Caprica City was a giant crater in the ground.

It was sheer luck that Archer City had been spared during the attack.

The warhead intended for the metropolis had malfunctioned just seconds from detonation. Instead it made a nose dive into the city harbor and sparing the area from an immediate hit. Before the orbital _Basestar_ knew their strike had failed and prepped a second warhead the retreat order had been sounded and the Cylons sent packing.

_Colonial One_ was coming in for a landing at the local seaport which was quickly becoming the city's main spaceport and Laura was taking the real pleasure of watching their approach.

"Madam President," she turned her head to notice Billy hovering a short distance away. "Captain Russo says we'll be on the ground in three-minutes. There is a _Raptor_ waiting to take you directly to the hospital to meet with the Vice President and Gardner."

"Thank you, Billy," Laura nodded as she slide out from her seat and joined him in heading below deck to the gangplank. "What have you heard so far?"

"Well," the young man shrugged at his limited information, "the Vice President is still in surgery but they are cautiously optimistic."

"There's been nothing over the wireless channels," she was secretly terrified of the press backlash that was probably going to be coming once this story leaked. "Didn't think something like this would go so unnoticed."

"Commander Adama is keeping the media is still in the dark," Billy offered and Laura was grateful for small favors. "We're all being lip tight 'til we know something for sure. If asked by the press then you are here on a goodwill tour of _Caprica's_ largest refugee camp."

Laura hated lying but technically they were only telling a half truth.

Laura did intend to visit Archer City and the six large refugee camps around its borders, along with the eighty-thousand people that had fled here. But that visit wasn't for another month and the press were going to notice her updated schedule.

Until otherwise, they weren't going to make any announcements until they were absolutely sure.

They were down the stairs of the gangplank, across the tramac and into the waiting _Raptor_ before Laura could register anything, keeping her appearance as limited as possible.

Up and over the city... towards the hospital... towards another possibly life changing event...

* * *

The wires slide back into the console as Gina snapped the covering back into place, beside her the deckhand tossed over another wrench, giving her the means to lock the panel into its final position.

"Okay, thanks," she nodded to the young woman dressed in the orange overalls before turning back to the two people before her. "I've installed some new circuits and an enhanced dradis system into the _Raptor's_ sensor package. It took all night but we managed to pull it off."

She smiled and everyone tried not to pay attention to the cracked blood on her lip that wrinkled as the corners of her mouth raised or the swollen eye that could barely blink. Even the slight limp as she approached the pair went unnoticed, even if she occasionally grimaced in pain.

"Girl works wonders," Chief Edward Heard grinned as he rubbed a grease ridden cloth over his hands. "This _Raptor_ has a dradis range equal to _Pegasus_' but twice as accurate. The moment they ship out I want to start putting these together these new pieces of tech into use on _Pegasus_."

"Good to hear it Chief," Helena nodded as she observed the modified bird. "You have an all clear."

"Shaw just boarded, Alastair's been onboard for an hour getting the FTL coordinates programmed," Gina nodded. "They're just waiting for me."

"Are you sure about this," Cain voice dropped to a whisper.

"They need me to run the new machinery," Inviere smiled, "since no one else is trained with it. They need... me, Helena."

"Good hunting," Helena saluted her, "Specialist Inviere... "

* * *

"Vice President's awake..." Derek said, though from the way he pressed himself into the doorway he wasn't enjoying the bearer of that news. "He wants to see you."

"How is he?" Laura inquired, knowing that Gardner was probably just a victim of being on the side he had no choice in.

"Surprisingly lucid in all things considered," her seemed to deflate a little, more than happy to be asked. "But he's drifting in and out until he comes off the pain killers."

"How about you?" she asked.

"Good..." Derek seemed a bit unsure, he was so wrapped up in Leipziger's recovery he had little decision of his own. "Better now that we are out of the bomb shelters."

Without another word he opened the door to the room and after only the shortest pause, Laura walked in.

Leipziger looked terrible, his head was wrapped in a mountain of gauze and his entirely left side of his face was a mask of cuts and bruises, so swollen that his eye was incapable of opening. For all intensive purposes the man looked like death warmed over but still his eyes bore into her as she came around his bed.

"Hello James," Laura said as she slide into the chair beside the man, trying to remain as formal as possible. "How are you feeling?"

"Like frakking crap," James's voice was like talking through water, gurgling and wavering as he spoke. "And I know from the look on your face I look like it too."

"Anything I can do in the meantime?" she tried to keep the tone light, hopefully it would make the coming conversation smoother. "Fluff a pillow, negotiate universal health coverage?"

"Doctors say I'll be a year in rehab just to talk straight," he explained, though the twitching in his lips told her it could be a lot longer and a lot harder for him. "Took the Gods themselves to finally nail me down."

"Well maybe-"

"Laura," he cut her off before she could go any farther, "I want you to hear this from me. I want you... I need you to resign."

"Sir," she asked, unsure of what this could mean, "would you really like to have Kumara in office? I know the royal family on _VIrgon_ barely wanted him to run an estate, let alone all the Colonies."

"You and me, Laura," James manage somewhere between speaking and mumbling, "we just see a different world for the Colonies. Kumara is an son of a bitch, a liar and he rarely listens to the opinons of others if they're not paying him through the nose but he shares my vision, supports my will. You tell me, in your heart, that you'd do the same."

"I've been doing well so far," it sounded more like a whine then a statement and Laura outwardly winced at how she sounded.

"You're coasting on goodwill and hopes right now," James anger was evident. "Its going to run out and fast. When it does we'll need a strong hand and a strong man in power to keep the people in line.

"You want a police state," Laura was finding this hard to believe, harder to comprehend that this was what was necessary, "someone who can keep the peace at any cost and won't shy away from hurting people to get it.

"Kumara is the best man for the job and face it," he gurgled at her, "the only reason the people haven't hung you out to dry is because you have those damn aliens on your side."

"The Hegemony has-"

"They've made us weak," the man's voice was a whisper but it still held power, "they've made us dependent. If we want the Colonies to endure and prosper again then we have to be able to stand on our own and without a crutch. Can you honestly deal with the people if you didn't have one of their warships in orbit? Can you make the hard decisions needed to survive..."

* * *

"This is it," Tom announced as he stopped in front of set of heavy blast doors, running a hand absently down the front of the airtight seal.

"_Locked," _Sim'Lohan commented as he tried to activate the wall-side controls._ "Looks like the circuits are burned out. Someone didn't want to leave the door ajar." _

Coming around the side of her, he regarded the device, noting that whatever had cut the controls had happened from the outside. Whoever had done it probably would only have a few seconds to get through the closing doors before they were sealed inside.

He however took specific note of one readout that was still active.

"Still shows atmosphere on the other-side," Tom announced before reaching into his pack and withdrawing a small blow torch. "Guess we'll have to do it the hard way."

As Zarek set to work, Sim'Lohan tapped her internal comms, hoping to gain some more information on the situation as they were stalled in their search.

"_Jusi'Lada report_," she announced.

_"A lot_," the young woman declared over the comms. "_The engine core is fine_."

"_What do you mean_?" Sim'Lohan was thoroughly confused. "_The distress call said they were disabled after engine damage_."

"_Well the engine itself is damaged but it's still functional," _she responded in clarity. "_There's nothing wrong with the engine, communication, navigation or life-support systems. Not that I can see. Some of these systems are even brand new. But I have found something... system logged a reboot twenty-minutes after the first distress call."_

"_If they got their systems online then why not contact us to tell us_?" Sim'Lohan wondered fruitlessly. "_On top of that why would anyone abandon their ship in the middle of nowhere with rescue on the way_?"

"There could be_ all sorts of reasons..." _Jusi'Lada offered. "_Just... not technical."_

_"Keep me posted," _the woman responded before clicking off her comms, taking note that in a short amount of time Tom had managed to complete his torch's circuit around the door frame.

With a load thunk, the door feel inward and surprisingly a flush of bright, warm light flooded out.

Stepping inward, gingerly trying to avoid the still searing red edges of the hole, both tried to hide their amazement at what they found.

A veritable forest grew around them, towering plants and even a few tree branches hung down over their heads and the ground was carpeted in a tight layer of fresh cut grass.

"_Kee'lah_," Sim'Lohan whispered, taking a moment to run a gloved hand through several low hanging vines that tapped her helmet.

"Ship was hauling this dome to be installed on _Gamoray_," Tom said, walking deeper into the odd garden, surrounded by a steel sky and wrapped around a metallic sidewalk. "Enough food already grown to feed half the base and three times that could be grow in a few months."

"_Here_..." Sim'Lohan reached down, plucking a work computer off the ground as she regarded the contents still flashing on its screen. "_Seed, protein, crop supplements. Enough to feed the rest of us and jump start our agriculture stores by weeks instead of months.._. this just isn't right."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked as he moved deeper into the dome.

"_We passed three cargo bays_," she explained as she followed, "_all of them empty_. _Even on a lifeboat they'd have found room for some of this, not all of it. Some of it should have been left when they escape."_

"No one escaped..."

"_Excuse me_?" Sim'Lohan looked up at him confused.

"The passengers never left this boat..." he trailed off as she noticed Zarek was staring up at something.

Looking up the first thing that roiled up inside of her was fear, followed in quick succession by revulsion, disgust and an intense sense to lose her lunch.

Bodies hung above them, skin pale, dried blood covering the majority of them, as they swayed in the non-existent breeze from the branches they had been stung up on...

* * *

The ship rocked and rose, the city slowly dwindling away into the cloud cover and the settling sun blasting a glare to swallow up the metropolis. But unlike when they landed, Roslin had no interest in watching the beautiful scene.

"Madam President," Billy slide into the seat across from her, his shirt un-buttoned and tight a bit askew. "Captain says will be back at the _Tripoint_ in an hour."

"I'll need you to start preparing..." the trailed off, not paying attention to even her own words, "the press release and the... whatever when we get back."

"Ma'am," Billy's voice was tight, he didn't like where this could be going, "what's going on?'

"I need you to write a resignation speech," Roslin exhaled in one long breath.

"Wouldn't the Vice President want Secretary Lorena want to write it?" he looked confused, his eyes growing big in a bemused fashion.

"It is for me," Laura lamented, unable to take the sick tone in her voice. "The office of the President should be filled with someone who shares the vision of Richard Adar and that man is Kumara. "

"Madam President," Billy was nearly dumbfounded. "With all due respect Kumara makes the Cylons look like tame. He's a erratic, depraved genius, who supports public execution, deportation of social radicals, the removal of rights for women, abortions of children conceived out of wedlock... he tried to rape his secretary and said it was his royal right to claim his property."

"It's not like I haven't thought about this," Laura said without an ounce of interest in her words. "Just take out your pen and start writing..."

* * *

"I don't see why the shuttle couldn't have landed at the spaceport?" Ocinis groaned as they crested the next bend, the Folk starting to become restless as every time they paused he was pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

"Air traffic over the entire north-eastern section of the continent is restricted," Lass said as he kept close step to his fellow. "Raiders and militia groups have been taking pot shots at passing ships. Until the Colonial Marines and Space Guard ground detachments remove them no one wants an unarmed air skiff filled with civilians getting shot down."

"But we are not some civilians," the alien hissed right back in indignation. "If a bunch of inbreed rebels want to shot at us, then we'd shot right back!"

Six listened to the bickering with minor interest, nothing so much as outright concern. It was refreshing in a sense. Though these two creatures were from totally different worlds, and as far as she gather totally different sides of the galaxy, to see them snapping at each other like two children gave her a little amused thrill…

Until something caught her attention.

"Wait," Six held up her hand and even if she was at the back of the group, both stopped to regard her. "I smell something."

"This is very startling," Lass tilted his head towards Ocinis, "as we are the ones trained for scenting targets."

"It's not targets…" Six didn't even give them an admonishing look, instead she just started through the underbrush. "It smells like stew."

"I too smell it," Ocinis nodded his upside down head, racing to catch up with the woman and sliding in beside her as they cleared the tree line.

It was a truck stop, very much abandoned from the broken windows, to the empty cars left doors open, windows down in the parking lot. It sat on the side of an asphalt road, one that wound off into the horizon in both directions.

The aroma was clearly coming from here. Without pause Six began to approach, her nose leading her across the empty street and into the deserted parking lot.

_Smells delicious_, Six thought to herself, _meat with a hint of charcoal and smoke_.

But at the same time the air was rank with something else, something that made her feel uneasy and sick to her stomach.

She was about to go further when a hand came down on her shoulder, stopping her with a powerful squeeze.

"We're not alone," Lass breathed in a low, almost growling voice.

Something moved behind one of the cars, for just a second they all tensed until they saw it was a child, a little girl.

Relaxation however gave way to a disgusting taste in her mouth as the kid approached, she smelled something awful. Even if they had been hiking for days without any bathrooms or shower, they still smelled a rose garden better.

The kid looked bad… not like other refugees they had seen before, emaciated and ready to fall over from starvation. Her hair was starting to thin, lumps forming on her arms and she walked like with a drunken stagger.

"She's sick," Six said, taking a step back.

"Medics say that something kind of plague was starting to spread in the refugee camps before they arrived," Ocinis whispered. "Maybe it hit here too."

"Are you in pain," Six shouted, disregarding the two to focus on the approaching kid. "We can help you, take you to a refugee camp for treatment. You'll be safe there."

"It's just fine," the girl giggle, as if in an intoxicated stupor. "We've got all the food we need. Would you like to come to dinner."

_We_? she thought to herself, _something's not right here._

That was probably why she started backing up at just the right moment… just soon enough that when the girl swung the meat cleaver at her neck it missed her by inches.

"SIX!" Lass shouted.

The girl shrieked, swinging and stabbing at her target in a desperate attack to land a hit… until Ocinis brought his jaw down on the girls skull in a roar and a crunch of bone.

"She taste like death," Ocinis let go of the now limp body with a spat of absolute disgust. "As if she were a days old carcass… in a sewage pit!"

"Are you alright," Lass was snatching her up from the ground.

"Yeah," she heaved a sigh of abject terror… until she notice more figures piling out of the rest stop. "But I don't think for long."

One man, wielding a wood axe, came racing towards them with a red glare in his eyes. Another was a teenage boy nearly naked save for his tattered shorts, followed close behind by a pair of dirty ladies in sun dresses, each swinging bats in their hands.

Lass waited until they were just close enough and opened fire. The plasma rifle could through concrete with no trouble, through human flesh it was a knife through butter.

Three bodies were on the ground before Ocinis was bounding forward, his jaws snapping and striking out. Teeth sunk into flesh and one woman howled like a banshee before she was tossed aside, giving Ocinis room to go after the bigger targets with bigger weapons.

"What the frak is wrong with these people!" Six shouted as she brought her fist down on the head of the teenage boy, crusting his skull with a terrible pop.

"Cannibals!" Lass shouted as he reach down into side holster and tossed her his spare pistol. "They're all stark mad from sickness!"

Six caught the weapon in her hands and without pause took aim and tried not to look away as she put a round through the nearest warm body… before watching it hit the ground in a pool of warm blood.

In less than the two-minutes it had been since their arrival, nine corpses were cooling on the ground but the madden mass kept coming.

"We can't keep this up," Lass screamed as he grapple with a man, the human's jaws snapping desperately for a bite. "There's just too many!"

"Not for long," Ocinis snatched another device from his belt with his teeth and merely snapping down the bright red button atop the silver sphere, tossed the object towards the largest grouping of cannibals.

They must have been so insane from starvation and the actions they had committed that to them the device must have been a prize or even food, a dozen individuals threw themselves to the ground just trying to catch it and even more piled on the moment it was down.

All received the surprise of their lives when the grenade detonated, a micro-explosion of gamma-radiation only affected a small, very contained area… but it was just the right amount of leave a large gaping hole of gray dust in the enemy's largest concentration.

The animals stood quiet just for a second… then dispersed in a wave of screams and shouts in all directions, some right into their line of fire. None of them hesitated from opening fire, ending these creature's sad lives.

Within a few more seconds the entire parking lot was just as empty as the first time they had arrived… but now with a lot more bodies crowding the ground.

"They looked sick…" Ocinis sniffed at one of the corpses before backing away with a coughing gag. "Not like the one's at camp we scented earlier."

"Consumption of flesh from one's own species can lead to prions infecting them," Lass asserted as he examined another one of the deceased. "Causes transmissible spongiform encephalopathy… brain disease. Quiet literally, their brains deteriorate into mush… and soon follows the rest of the body. It's the reason why most species demonize cannibalism and why it is a rare and dying phase only seen during times of incredibly starvation."

"People associate it with madness," Ocinis nodded, "with good reason since it can cause it."

"But you have to be pretty mad to do this," Six commented as she tapped one of the bodies with her boot. She was just about to turn and leave when the sound of something caught her ears. "There's someone inside!"

All eyes turned to the empty truck stop, where the sound of feet scrapping and a moan could be distinctly heard.

"Could be a survivor," Lass whispered, hoping not to draw attention to themselves.

"Yeah, but from which side," Ocinis shot him a look. "Six don't-"

Before either of them could shout for her to stop, Six marched right through the open door of the building… and into hell.

The place looked like a blast had gone off, the floor was caked in dirt, shelves were overturned, cheap junk food wrappers littered the floor, intermixed with glass. This probably was where these people ate, slept… and from the smell of it, went to the bathroom.

But among the debris were a few bodies and from the cuts, bruises and pieces missing from them, Six could guess they had not died by their hands but as victims of these deranged cannibals.

Something moved and she dropped down into a crouch, her rifle ready to fire.

But the clang of a metal chain on the ground and a sob clearly hinted that whoever it could be was a prisoner. Bounding over the discarded trash, she was standing over a clearly female form… and with a hesitant hand turned her over.

It was a surprise when she found herself staring into her own face… and it wasn't a mirror.

"You're me," a strained voice whispered through the cuts and bruises.

"No..." Six whispered down at the brutalized Six. "I'm your sister..."

* * *

"We'll have to replace the entire fight-pod," Tyrol tossed the schematics onto the table and tried not to look up at the powerful and burning stares coming in his direction. "Every from the pylon struts all the way up to the gyro interlock system."

"Frakking Gods," Tigh whistled in disgust, "that's over a third of the ship."

"I'm sorry sirs," Galen sighed, tapping a finger over the paper work, "but that is our most conservative estimates. We have even more problems on top of that."

"What is this?" Adama was lying back in his chair, trying to take everything in but trying to keep his outrage at bay.

Reaching into the bag he had carried in, Tyrol extracted a wrapped, brunt piece of metal which he promptly dropped upon the stacks of paper work covering the Commander's coffee table.

"Looks like its been through the ringer," Saul mumbled in earnest as he snatched up the piece of refuse to examine it closer, noting his fingers were quickly covered in black ash.

"Its from the port flight-pod," the Chief explained as he began to detail the damage. "Stress fractures. They're minor, almost didn't notice them until we started to follow the damage from the starboard flight-pod. Like a trail of breadcrumbs we found these from frame eighteen all the way to aft."

"We didn't take that much damage," Tigh groused, not the least bit amused, "three, maybe four nukes during the battle. It should have been only minor."

"Damage was already there..." Tyrol said, "when _Galactica_ was first built."

"That was over half a century ago!" the Colonel was nearly floor, even as Adama remained bitterly quiet.

"It was wartime, sir," Galen shrugged. "_Galactica_ was rushed into service. Most people don't know that we weren't meant to be the third _Battlestar_ into service, we were supposed to be the eighth."

It was true, during the first days of the war most of the existing fleets of the Colonies were either too weak to battle the Cylon advance or already subverted. Only _Caprica_ and _Picon_ could muster an absolute resistance, the old Caprican shipyards had been put to work to complete the first ten _Battlestars_, four to _Picon_ to be finished. Barely a month before the first frames were laid the Cylons hit the yards.

The _Battlestars Aurora, Ceres, Fontus, Hermus _and _Invictus_ were gone in minutes. Even if the local miltias fought the Centurions and _Raiders_ back, they could only rescue three of the active frames. The _Battlestars Athena, Galactica_ and _Nixi_ were those frames and the first three _Battlestars_.

"Contractors cut corners," Tyrol grumbled, feeling a headache starting to rise in his temples, "bolts are too small in some places, ones that are too big are shoved into others. Some of the beams on the ventrile sides are so warped they'll have ot be completely replaced."

"What you're suggesting is the complete gutting of the whole ship," Adama finally spoke and for just a second the Chief was worried how he would answer for a second.

"Yes sir, I am," Tyrol confirmed honestly. "Right now we're flying on lots of glue and hopes. When one or both of them give out, _Galactica_ will literally dissolve around us."

"How long could she function without your repairs?" the Commander pushed.

"Without combat or jumps," Galen made clear, "maybe forever. But since we're at war... a year, maybe less. The more you jump her the more stress on her frame."

"So we could fly a little longer?" Tigh tried to reason but the dark look on the Chief's features told it that wasn't the case.

"I don't know how to say this," the man sighed, "but you keep flying her it won't be a matter when she crashes... it will be when and who into."

"Your honest opinion, Chief," Adama nodded for the man to speak freely. "How long would this take?"

"We lost all our shipyards and major orbital ports during the attack," Galen explained, "they were first strike targets. Even if we were to put in at _Scorpia Shipyards_, it'd be almost two-years. Only _Nicious Station_ has the necessary repair facillities left to make that happen... the other Anchorages... maybe six... or seven-years."

"It'd be easier to just scrap the entire ship!" Saul was nearly floored.

"Could be the only thing the old girl's worth," Adama groused, casting a glare at him.

"Bill," the Colonel was nearly aghast at his friend's implications, "I can't believe you'd say that!"

"It could be the only option we have in a few weeks," the Commander grumbled. "But until we haev those shipyards back we can't spare any ships. Chief, I need those repairs started now and done as fast as possible."

For a long time the man just stared at his commanding officer, trying to figure the best way to word his response.

"Sir," he finally decided throw caution to the wind. "I've been talking to Captain Botha and Chief Kruxal on the _Victory_ and from what I understand the Lancer's Hope is a mobile shipyard

"I was aware of such," Adama nodded.

"Then you know that the repair facilities on the Lancer make even the _Scorpia Shipyards_ or the Gemenon Fleet Hub look like a scrape yard," the Chief continued.

"We are not going to use foreign repair teams," Tigh muttered. "This is a Colonial ship, it should be maintained by Colonial interests."

"Sir," Galen tried to direct his reasoning at the Commander, the person most likely to see reason and act on it, "from what I understand the Hegemony has already repaired all the damage done to them during the last attack, including the raising of a ship that crashed on _Caprica_. Image what they could do with a ship like _Galactica_? We could be flying for in a matter of weeks instead of years.

"And we'd have another debt owed to the Hegemony," Tigh grumbled and spat. "Another in a long list that starts with preventing our total annihilation at the hands of the Cylons. What when they call in all those favors?"

"They won't," Adama's words were long, nearly quiet, but gruff enough to be notice. "Because they're afraid of us..."

"Sir?" the Chief piqued the question.

"Even with the Colonies still recovering after the Cylon attack," the Commander said, "we still out number them. According to that AI of theirs, with all the colonies in this region of space combined, they barely number 3-billion and only the largest settlement is at half a million. One of our Colonies outnumbers them, our entire population is over fifteen times greater then them."

"They're afraid that if the Colonies turn on them then they'd lose?" Saul was nearly incredulous. "But our fleets are almost gone, our people have little resources, hell the Cylons are more advance then us and they'd got their frakking asses handed to them."

"But we know this space," Adama expanded on further, "we have an established industrial base... we look like and can easily pass at one of their most numerous and widespread member races.

"And even if they defeated us," the Chief understood the implication, "we'd still be able to cause a lot of damage to their worlds."

"We are the ultimate threat," Saul now understood what his old friend was implying, "because we are worse then the Cylons, we are them."

"So they are trying to stay on our good side," Galen proposed, "making sure we won't turn on them?"

"Exactly," Adama nodded at the idea. "They maybe powerful but the Hegemony puts an even greater value on life then we do. Even one life lost is sacrilegious to them."

"This is a little trouble," Saul mumbled to himself and only himself.

"Something we'll have to think about later," Adama announced as he motioned for both men to rise with him. "Start transferring the flag to the _Battlestar Tartarus_ for the time being, we'll deal with this later..."

* * *

"She's late," Five seethed, anxiously tapping his fingers on the side of the railing before returning to pacing back and forth. "Should we send another faked Centurion abduction?"

"No she's only half an hour an hour," Six commented as she hung onto the edge of the railing, filing her nails with a fine piece of metal even as she teetered dangerously close to the eighteen-story drop "Sharon can't just waltz away from her human any time she likes."

"I've notice you're calling her '_Sharon_' now," Five rounded on her, sarcasm dripping off his tongue as accusing eyes narrowed at her.

"I choose to think of her as one of them," she shrugged, barely looking up from her nail work as she reached to her side and plucked a bottle of red polish from the ledge.

"Because you dislike her?" Five snorted.

"Because in the scheme of things, we are as we do," Six explained as with an expert's eye she began to apply a thin layer of polish onto her ring finger. "She chose to masquerade as a human, acts like one of 'em, thinks like them... she is one of them."

"But she's one of us," Five hissed under his breath. "It would be best to remember that."

"Apparently some of our people didn't remember that during the attack," Six giggled like she was drunk on something. "A hundred total models killed themselves beyond the range of a _Resurrection Ship_ when we ordered them to act, three hundred total models outright refused to respond to their call when the attack began, over seven hundred Cylon models unaccounted for when that alien AI purged our black-op networks... one third of our total infiltration forces still masquerading as humans either unknowingly or God forbid willingly."

The sound of clanking servos and the pounding of metallic footfall stopped all any further argument.

"Well show her in then," Five grumbled at the Centurion's unspoken announcement.

With nothing more then a bow of its bullet like head the machine made its departure and allowed their new arrival to enter. The moment she slipped in she could feel their eyes on her, watching, expecting, wanting to know the fact that they had been hoping for the entire length of this scientific endeavor.

"We had sex," Sharon announced to the pair.

"Congratulations," Five declared like a scientist congratulating a fellow research on an experiment done well. "We can start moving into the next stage of the project."

"Does he love you?" Six however wanted the more pressing question to be answered.

"I think so..." her voice wavered just enough to let both her subordinates she was far from sure.

"Has he said it?" Six pressed again, more insistent.

"Not directly," she shrugged and the moment Sharon did she suddenly found herself unable to look the pair directly in the eyes, like a child suddenly caught doing something wrong she found an odd spot on the wall far more pressing for her attention.

"Then you're just guessing," Five hissed, his eyes narrowed and looking like venom was dripping from his teeth. "Fine... stay in your current location. We're setting up a secondary location for you nearby. Food, water, electricity, all the comforts."

"Shouldn't be too hard to convince him to stay and start a life together," Six grinned at them at the idea.

"If not," Five shot right back into the discussion, "kill him. Can you handle that?"

"Yeah," Sharon nodded reluctantly, "I can handle that..."

* * *

"We can transfer over most of the extra cargo pallets to the _Greenleaf_ and _Salpica_," Laura commented as she clicked a few icons on the floating holo-screen before her, a little too gingerly as she was almost afraid of the device.

"The medical ship _Kyoto St. Pierre_ can take the injured left overs in sickbay for the time being," Vonaka nodded beside her, quickly adding the extra details into the database. "In the meantime the _Lancer_ will start sending over drones and engineers to assess the situation."

"Good," Adama nodded across from the pair, staring at the device occupying the center of his coffee table with mild annoyance, "that means-"

"Sir," All eyes turned upward as Lee entered the Commander's quarters, "you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Captain Apollo," Adama gestured for his son to join them, "scuttle butt hasn't brought it down the chain yet but _Galactica_ is going to be in a massive overhaul for a few weeks to repair the damage done to us in the recent fighting. Until that is complete we are temporarily transferring the flag to _Tartarus_."

"I'll start having the pilot prep their racks now," Lee made no attempt to sit down, preferring to stand.

"You misunderstand," Bill nodded. "Since _Tartarus_ is already carrying a full _Viper_ compliment but only a third of her launch tubes are cleared, we'll be putting you onto another ship in the meantime."

"Which Commander will I be reporting to, sir?" Apollo inquired.

"That would be me, Captain," Volaska suddenly spoke up, raising his attention to the young man who was staring at him with a surprised look.

"Sir?" Lee shot a glance towards his commanding officer.

"We contacted our other ships and no Commander can take on a full squadron," Adama explained. "We were about to start breaking the squadrons up and sending off individual birds when the Admiral came to me with a proposal."

"During the attack one of our destroyers took heavy damage over _Caprica," _Vonaka described in greater detail._ "_That left four squadrons without a home. Even after some shuffling and the near completion of repairs on the _Dynamic Year_, we still have one squadron left without a home. Since we're trying to develop a greater sense of cooperation between our peoples, joint fighter missions will be able to introduce the Space Guard to civilians while showing the Colonial military is still going strong."

"We want you to start preforming joint flight operations with the Space Guard," Adama finished off. "You will be using your own fighters and operating out of the Victory until Galactica is flight worthy again."

"Yes sir," the young man bowed his head at the trio. "I'll start the necessary transfers."

"Be ready to deploy by tomorrow morning," and with a nod of his head, Lee disappeared out the door of his superior officer's and father's quarters.

"Well I do have to grab a shuttle back to _Victory_," the towering Anchallian stood, offering a bow to the President and the Commander. "I'll be having Alli forward over the transfer manifest in the morning."

No sooner then he was gone did the bleating of a far off phone catch their remaining attention.

"If you'll excuse me Madam President," Adama stood and moved off to answer wherever the sound was coming from. "I'll be just a moment."

"Not a problem," she offered.

While he was otherwise occupied Laura rose from her cushioned seat and decided to do whatever any good house guest does in this situation, look through other people's personal stuff to get an idea about them.

It wasn't an invasion of privacy as long as she didn't go through anything not out on display already.

Adama's quarters were large compared to most of the stuffy and cramped accommodations Laura had experienced on this boat. But even if it still held the same angular walls, same cold white steel and military to feel to every surface, she still found his home refreshing.

The furniture was old, worn and wooden, obviously a hint at Adama's preference for a simpler, more comfortable time. Yet his walls were decorated with paintings of battle, of sculptures from numerous time periods, of books... so many books they filled the shelves before starting stacks onto the floor.

Some were military novels, dating back all the way to the First Cylon War. But others were mysteries, dramas, comedies, the Commander had a taste for all of them apparently.

But she was looking for something else, something that would give her a sense of who Commander William Adama really was.

"I'm sorry," the Commander apologized as he re-entered the room. "Engineering was calling to request the engine cool down codes.

"It's all right," Laura shrugged, running a finger along the bookshelf. "Some time I'd like to borrow a book or two. I o nly brought o ne with me o n the flight to _Galactica _and the stores on the Tripoint just don't seem to have a bookstore anywhere."

"What book?" Adama prompted, giving a crack to Laura's attention.

"'_A Murder o n Picon?_'" she tilted her head towards one of the smaller, more neglected looking books covered in a thin layer of dust. "I have a weakness for mysteries."

"Ever read '_Dark Day'_?" the Commander asked, snatching up one from the nearby end table and handing it over for her to inspect.

"Edward Prima," Laura read the author's name and couldn't help to smile. "I am embarrassed to say it's o ne of those classics I've never gotten around to reading."

"I think you'll enjoy it," Bill smiled at her, an almost genuine and knowing smile.

"Thank you," she grinned right back at him. "It may be a while before I get this back to you though."

"It's a gift," Bill protested, throwing up his hands to possibly stop her. "Never lend books. It's bad luck."

"Well, then," she was touched by the sentiment, "thank you for the gift and have a good night Commander."

Offering a short wave she moved towards the exit, through the raised frame, passed the two guards the held position outside the quarters and was almost around the corner when she stopped in her tracks.

Barely twenty-feet away Billy was nervously shifting from one foot to another, looking like an incredibly shy child looking at the object of his affection.

"I thought you'd be on Rangar right now?" he stumbled over his words in a near ramble, quickly trying to correct himself. "I mean... no wait... ah... what are you doing here tonight?"

"Just delivering some status reports to the Commander personally," Dualla giggled a little. "Maybe I also heard the Commander and the President were meeting and I hoped to run into you."

"Oh great," Billy's smile lit up like a thousand light bulbs. "I... How are things?"

"Things are good," she laughed again, trying to keep her tone soft but friendly to the young man.

"Good," he nodded, a little too quickly his head would have fallen off. "You look good. I really like your hair."

"My hair?" she patted the side of her upturned bun, trying to hide the amusement in her features at Billy's terrible attempt at a compliment.

"I don't know anything about women," Billy obviously was kicking himself in the hindquarters for that one.

"Will you just ask me out already?" Dualla sighed but still smiled.

"You want to go out..." he stammered over his words, trying to comprehend how in asking her out, she had instead beat him to the punch, "like out... like on a date."

"Tomorrow," Dee began to gather herself up and stared to depart. "1800 hours."

"Cool..." Billy nodded, before realization dawned on him, "when's 1800 hours?"

Laughing Dee made her departure, leaving a smiling but equally dumbfounded Billy in her wake.

"Billy," the young man turned to see his boss standing not five feet away, "can I talk to you for a second?"

* * *

"How much more do they expect us to take?" a dark skinned Gemonese worker shouted, throwing his fist into the air in outrage. "They grind us into the deck and then are surprised when we say no more!"

"We need a half-day turnaround after we worked at double shifts!" a Piconese woman agreed with him, her dark hair and olive like complexion making her standout among the normally cream skinned Capricans.

"We're lucky if you get a fraction of that!" the Gemonese man was quick to agree with her.

"We're lucky if you get into our beds before they're calling us back!" Foreman Petto was quick to voice her outrage in the situation, even if she was their superior and suppose to be setting an example. "They work us like dogs and then send us to our lumpy cots lined up in a wet cargo bay!"

"This is slavery!" more calls of indignation echoed from the surrounding crowd, demanding their voices be heard. "This station is a dictatorship!"

"I say '_strike_'!" the moment those words were in the air it incited a chant of agreement.

"_STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!_" the worker's voices echoed through the cavernous cargo-bay, each voice adding to the canopy of anger and scorn.

"Knock it off!" Symone Devaux's voice may have been nothing compared to the mob but the moment she spoke, everyone around her went silent. "I don't want to hear the word '_strike_' out of anyone's mouth anymore! You don't work, you get kicked off the station and back to your cramped ships or worse... squatting in the refugee camps on _Caprica_. You're conscripted... that means they could throw you out for less... understand?"

That seemed to scare them enough into submission but the angry looks that were shot at her told her that it wasn't enough to get them all back to work.

"What do you want here?" Symone's head swiveled around at the sound of her Foreman's voice, suddenly interested at the seething anger she heard between her words.

The moment she saw the new and un-welcomed arrival she knew what had prompted Petto's wrath. She may have been small to the nearly six-foot, five, Lieutenant Moneti but still she stood her ground against the Guard officer.

"Getting out of my way before I knock you on your ass would be a good start," his intimidation however failed to garner him anything more than a glaring response from the crowd.

"It's all right Tina," Symone's voice echoed over the crowd, "let him through."

There was a rumble of disagreement in the masses but the moment Devaux spoke, the workers backed off and gave them a relative distance, but still pressed in wanting a piece of the action.

"Been expecting you, Mr. Moneti," she smiled the moment he was within a few feet of her and not the kind of smile the man was wanting to see.

"Mr. Gaeta would like to meet with you," he declared, though his interest in her fan club was taking the majority of his attention, "but since been ignoring his calls for the last five-hours I'd thought it be fun to put you in a headlock and drag you kicking and screaming before his head explodes."

"Don't you threaten her!" Petto suddenly was in his face spitting venom.

"Back-off, Tina," again Symone's order got the workers to back down, but still the tension in the air could have been cut with a knife. "Sorry Lieutenant, been tied up. Got a lot of sick workers here."

Laughter rolled through the crowded and a few badly faked coughs added in over the chorus, sending a smile over Devaux's lips.

"Ah, it's fascinating, how humanity continues to believe that sarcasm is not noticed?" the man commented, not the least bit interested in their goading. "Well, I find it a weak ploy when we are dealing with a serious situation."

"We're being as serious as a tear in a environmental suit," Symone hissed like a cat with its tail stepped on, "and we want the President to know that as she tries to steamroll us again."

"By staging a strike?" Alhex's tone was verging on outrage and incredulousness. "I thought you Colonials were smarter than that. No work equals no money... no money, no food... and in this economy that could mean a death sentence for some."

"You're career military," Symone waved him off like an annoying bug, "I don't expect you to understand. But I'm a blue collar under this uniform. I served my Colonies during the First Cylon War and then was flushed out. It was the union that gave me work and protected me when the military tossed me. Even if I've been re-activated since the attack, these are still my people. We're only doing what we have to do!"

"That's what the Lieutenant wants to talk to you about," he shot her a glare.

"The hell with your talk!" a wave of agreement rushed through the surrounding crowd at Petto's declaration. "We got people dying out here and you aliens send some foreign human hoping a friendly face will keep us in line! If President wants us to talk don't send her lap dogs? Get her frakking down here and then we'll listen!"

Heads nodded, voices began to raise and for just a second Devaux looked worried... and that worried Moneti. She was the ring leader of this crowd, if she started to lose control now after riling them up, things were going to get real bad real quick.

"All right. All right!" she threw her hands up, again the crowd went quiet around her but this time her control was obviously starting to wane as it took longer than before to get them back into line. "Let me handle this, all right? Okay? The Lieutenant wants to talk, we'll talk..."

* * *

"Five seconds..." Apollo's voice crackled over the _Viper's_ comms as she rolled her fighter into position.

"Roger," Starbuck formed up on his tail. "With you leader..."

"Confirmed," Kicker added, bringing his much larger and tapered form in between the two other ships, creating a arrowhead of sorts.

They closed in tighter to their target, holding tight, engines at full burn... their target getting closer... and closer...

"Hope Dee enjoys the show," Starbuck giggled, disregarding comm edict like she always did.

"Okay, burners," their target loomed ahead of them, a moving wall of rotating metal and glass as it filled Apollo's cockpit windows, "and... break!"

The _Vipers_ hit their afterburners, the two ships rolled on their sides as their thrusters threw them in splitting directions. Kicker's vessel hit his drive and vaulted his craft upward... each in time to miss the wide windows of _Rangar Anchorage's_ observation deck.

On lookers gasped and applauded, impressed and astounded at the zero-G acrobatics. After a few moments waiting a wishing the three fighters to return and sorely disappointed they returned to the coaches that encircled the room, a miniature theater designed for the sole purpose of simply enjoying an unobstructed view of the heavens.

Among those that had gathered some prayed to the star-scape, some played with a cobbled together telescope, one person even was spending their time sketching outlines of passing vessels. The majority however were couples, enjoying some quiet time together.

"Do they always do that?" Billy asked, adjusting his arm as Dee laid her head on his shoulder.

"No," she snuggled deeper into the crock of his arm, "they're just showing off. They know I'm in here."

"Really?" the young man obviously was confused by her minor celebrity status.

"Well," Dualla shrugged as she watched some of the passing cargo ships float by the window, "you date a special assistant to the President word gets out."

"So this is officially a date?" Billy suddenly perked up as a shy but bright smile crossed his face.

"Jury's still out," she smiled at him... but slowly it dissolved as a more serious look crossed her face. "So any word from _Picon_ yet on your family?"

For a long while he didn't speak, didn't even look at her.

Dualla knew that _Picon_ had taken the brunt of the attack, _Colonial Fleet Headquarters_, both the main orbital hub and the ground-based installation had been thoroughly obliterated by the Cylons and many of the water world's major cities had been decimated before anyone had a clue the Colonies were under attack. _Picon's_ cities were mostly located on a few major islands, the bulk of their five billion population clustered together in some of the largest harbor cities in the Colonies.

Less nukes had been dropped on _Picon_ then any other Colony but still they lost eight-hundred million.

"I heard the Cylons didn't nuke the capital," Billy shrugged, his eyes suddenly detached and vacant, "but Queenstown is big and spread out... so it maybe some time."

"If you like I could drop a few hints," Dee offered, hoping to alleviate the pain she had caused, "maybe see if they got moved to one of the refugee camps near Polyminos in the south."

"They couldn't have gone far," Billy wasn't all there, "my father had health problems and my sister was expecting twins. Traveling three-hundred miles would have been impossible."

"But-"

"Observation deck," an officer suddenly stuck his head in through the entrance hatch, "you have two minutes remaining."

"You could pull rank," Dee suddenly grinned at him, hoping to change the topic. "You could tell them you're on special business for the President of the Colonies.

"Your boss pulls more weight around here than mine," Billy grinned right back at her. "You just tell them Adama wants you to-"

"Yeah?" she cut him off with a smile, suddenly her lips just inches from his own. "What? Wants me to what?"

"I lost my train of thought," he mumbled, momentarily confused and vague.

"Mhmm," Dee beamed.

"How is he these days, by the way?" Billy suddenly asked.

"The Old Man?" Dee continued to smile at him, playing with the buttons of Billy's shirt. "He's fine, I guess."

"You guess?" he inquired, a bit unsure of how she had answered.

"Works been hard on him," Dualla admitted after the fact. "None of the Admiralty survived the attack in any real capacity so everyone is turning to him to lead.

"It's probably tiring," Billy added.

"Yeah," she agreed whole heartily. "He was planning to retire to _Caprica_, now he's in charge of the entire fleet."

"Maybe he needs some help?" he ventured a guess.

"Billy Keikeya..." Dualla suddenly turned on him, her eyes all of a sudden alight with fire, "are you pumping me for information about the Old Man?"

"Time's up!" the watch officer's voice rang out, people quickly began to gather their stuff and make their exit as the newcomers began to move in.

"No..." Billy was quick to defend himself even as they started towards the door, "of course not!"

"You are!" Dualla jabbed him in the chest. "You're a spy, that's what you are."

"I'm just asking a couple of questions," he tried to get her to see reason, though he himself wasn't believing it himself.

"Well," she shot him a glare, jabbing him in the chest to get her point across, "I hope you like the answers. Because they're the last ones... you're gonna get for a while..."

* * *

The door to his room opened and though the muscles in his neck screamed and protested he turned his head to see who had arrived.

"Mister Leipziger," Heath Gladfelter smiled as he glided into the room, offering his hand to the man as he approached. "it is good to see you again."

"Same to you, Gladfelter," reluctantly James took the man's open palm before gesturing to the chair beside his bed. "I can only guess why you are here?"

"His Excellency was hoping for an update on Roslin's resignation," Heath managed a quick glance at his watch, though the perturbed look on James' face wasn't lost on the man.

"Seems to me she is already writing it," Leipziger barely paid attention to man who obviously was just the messenger. "Her assistant, that mousy little man, said she'll be making the announcement come tonight."

Slowly rising from the chair, Gladfelter stood next to the open window of the hospital room, enjoying the crisp spring air with only the slight hint of ash and dust.

"How long before the new Quorum of Twelve can be sworn in?" he asked, again glancing at his watch.

"Three days," Leipziger could help but grin but still Gladfelter's disinterest annoyed. "I already have the names. I will personally place the King's name in nomination as my Vice President the second there in place. O nce they confirm him, I submit my resignation and you get sworn in. The whole thing should take less than an hour."

"You're stepping down without a fight?" Gladfelter almost laughed, flicking his fingers and taping his foot, almost impatient to a fault.

"I'm a realist," Jame shrugged and smirked, a weak try at some real bravado. "I never had any illusions about remaining in office for very long given my condition. Once I have the Presidency releaved of my post in temp for medical reasons and Kumara will the President until the Quorum confirms me fit for office."

Gladfelter glanced down at his watch one final time and smiled as he saw it was finally time.

"It's so despondent," Heath laid his back against the wall, finally offering a look to the man in the bed before him and for a second Leipziger was worried. "So many people out there. Everyone searching for something they can't find but would give anything to have. Everyone making and breaking so many promises. Cheating husbands and wives. Abusive parents. Battering husbands. Hostile takeovers. Rapes, robberies, homicides. Politicians taking bribes and breaking promises. And now we are all being punished for these terrible sins."

"Yeah, same old, same old," James nodded with the grin like a Cheshire cat. "But the world keeps turning."

"But maybe it's about time for some change," Gladfelter seemed almost envious, as if he was talking about the most beautiful thing he had ever dreamt. "Someone who can really bring order to the chaos that has long since existed across all the Colonies."

"And I bet Kumara would love to be the man who-"

His voice held in his throat and for a second a pained expression crossed over James' face, as if he was trying to fight something and failing.

"What the frak did you do to me?" he hissed, his entire body suddenly rigid and his words a little slurred.

"Never shake hands with strangers, Mister Leipziger. You never have a clue what you'll catch," Reaching into his pocket, Gladfelter removed a syringe. "It is funny, you know, that the one thing we all need to stay alive, breathing, can be just as destructive when a simple bubble ends up in the blood stream."

Reaching down he slide the plunger into one of the numerous IV tubes that snaked in and out of the man's body.

"I'm truly sorry," Gladfelter grinned as he pressed the device into the plastic tube. "But his royal excellence has no intention of sharing the Presidency. Now don't move... I don't want to hurt you..."

* * *

"Your friend's looking for a fight," Alhex commented as he kept one step ahead of her, not even bothering with the effort of shooting a glance back at her. "I would love to crack a few heads but I'm honor bound as a military officer for them to take a first punch."

"That was Tina Petto," Symone sighed, though she quickly hid it with a spurt of anger to keep her controlling front in check. "Her little sister Sophia was the one killed in the accident. She's been taking it hard."

"I'm sorry," the officer nodded, "I know what it's like to lose someone close. But Felix wants to help, Symone."

"We'll see," she shrugged in a non-committable fashion.

They finally entered the conference room and for a second everything was quiet. Felix didn't greet her, he just fixed her with a stare that spoke volumes… volumes that Symone was not going to like.

"Why do I think I'm about to hear something bad?" she groaned under her breath, not even taking the chance to throw herself into one of the rock-hard chairs that surrounded the negotiation table and instead propping herself against its brim.

"The President is asking your people to go back to work," Felix stated, though the sour look on his face showed he didn't enjoy being made the messenger. "If they don't, then they all are threatening a treason act against the survival of Colonies and she'll have to bring in the military."

"Roslin doesn't have the frakking balls to do that," the woman hissed like a snake about to strike. "It would inflame public opinion against her and she'd be casting the military as the bad guys."

"Don't be so sure about that," the man countered, grinding his fingers into a fist as he spoke. "Things are different now after the Cylon attack and not all for the best. If it comes down to raising wages for a few people or feeding a billion people in a refugee camp, where do you think the public is going to fall? There's nothing else you can gain by continuing the strike-"

"I can't send my people back to work without even a guarantee of their safety!" Symone cut him off, not even paying Gaeta's comment any attention. "We're not demanding a pay-hike, we're demanding for some better treatment and something above the conditions of a work camp."

"And I can't guarantee anything while you're on a strike..." Felix wasn't going to back down, but the growing fury at the fact Devaux still wasn't seeing his reasoning was starting to show.

"They're blue-collar workers, Lieutenant," Symone said as she leaned across the table towards him. "Every time they trust the administration, they get kicked in the backside. We won't be the first to use violence but we won't shy away from it."

That managed to get Felix's eyes to go wide... though not with fear but outrage.

"I saw those men in the docking bay," Moneti interjected himself between the two before his companion took off her head. "They're angry, they're looking for someone to take their rage out and-"

"They've got a right to be angry!" Devaux raised her voice as she threw her hands up in the air. "They're practically slaves! And if I remember the Articles of Colonization say slavery is illegal."

"I don't think you fully understand the consequences," Alhex pressed onward. "This station shuts down and food rations being shipped to Caprica are gone. Millions would starve, thousands would die."

"Don't tell me about consequences!" Symone shouted him down before he had a chance to play the guilt card. "I know what's at stake but doesn't that mean working a hundred people to death just so a few million lying around on the ground doing nothing can eat another day is really just?"

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," both eyes turned to Alhex. "Old Vulcan proverb. If ten people have to suffer to protect ten-thousand, which would you chose?"

The seething glare Devaux fixed him with could have burned the man into a dark spot of ash on the ground if the woman hadn't turned on her heels and marched from the room without a glare back.

Her departure was short-lived as the nearby communication speaker began to ring, declaring in a rather loud and annoying tone that someone was trying to get through to them.

"Gaeta here," Felix sighed in a defeated tone at the speaker beside him.

"_Lieutenant_," Dualla's voice rang in over the old-style device, "_you've got another transmission from Colonel Tigh_."

"Patch it up..."

* * *

The heart monitor screamed, a bleating shout that cried out so loud it could not go unnoticed. The moment it sounded all bodies were moving.

"He's crashing!" a nurse shouted as she shot down the floor, three doctors and an orderly coming up behind her.

"Paddles!" a doctor shouted as he was quickly handed over the pair of handles and pressed them into the bear chest. "Charge to three hundred!"

The blast of electricity screamed through his body, sending every nerve into shock and forcing every muscle to contract in terrible unison.

"No rhythm!" one of the doctors declared as a long scream tone now sounded on the monitor.

"Clear!" the man with the paddles shouted as he pressed the devices deep into the man's skin. Again his body went erect and then a second later limp like a doll. "No response!"

"Bag him!" another person shouted in the absolute chaos.

Outside the door, Derek pressed his back against the wall, unable to move but unable to look into the room. He listened as the world seemed to play out around him, scream noise, rushed movements... then silence.

"I'm sorry," Derek looked up to notice a nurse standing beside him, her eyes haunted and sorrowful. "There was nothing we could do..."

She walked off without a glance back, already knowing there was nothing she could say that would possibly make him feel better.

"Derek," his head snapped as Sierra rushed toward him, her coat open and sweat beading on her forehead. "I just heard... is he..."

"I need..." his voice was weak for a moment, lost on him before he finally started to rise back to reality. "I need you to get me a _Raptor_ to _Colonial One_..."

"What?" Lorena was puzzled and confounded.

"_NOW_!"

* * *

Laura was paging through another report, trying to make sense of the long lines of numbers and statistics yet failing. The papers were supposed to be a summary of the recovery efforts to rebuild the agricultural infrastructure on _Aerilon_ but it was far from a summary.

It could easily compete with a dictionary in size and lack of readability.

But the sound of someone entering her office gave her a possible distraction from the eye bleeding report; however she was more than distracted when Billy nearly stumbled into her office. His jacket was over his shoulder, his tie pulled lose and a slack look plastered on his face, which looked distinctly green.

"Have a good time?" her interest was sparked, unable to image that the obviously drunken man before her was her usually clean cut, annoying polite and starting intelligent personal assistant.

Billy only managed to waggle his hand in the air in a '_so-so'_ sign, before lying back into one of the chairs before her desk.

"Second base at least?" she grinned, remembering her own youthful days when she had been on a date and fallen into a similar state.

But Billy only held up a single digit, declaring he had only managed to make it to first base.

"Well, war is hell, dating it worse, better luck next time..." she assured him fondly, before leaning across the desk to get down to business. "What'd you find out?"

"Dee couldn't put her finger on it," he gulped down air in a croaking voice, "but yeah she said he's been under a lot of pressure recently."

"I could see that myself," Laura shrugged, not too pleased with what little he had gleamed that she had already know. "He is distracted and unfocused. What else?"

"She didn't know," Billy shrugged as if it was no big deal. "Just said he was exhausted. But none of this is damning evidence. Odd behavior could be stress, pure and simple. Exhaustion from having to be in charge of an entire army when a few days ago he was looking to retire."

"You're right," Laura conceded to the facts, "it could be any of those things. But what if it's not?"

"Madame President," Billy sighed in overt annoyance, "with all due respect, I cannot believe anything otherwise. And I have to say, I'm not really comfortable using my relationship to..."

A mere gleam in his eyes made it clear at what he was implying.

"Enough said," she nodded in absolute understanding. "You were a good soldier, and I won't ask you to do it again. Anything else?"

"I was just... wondering..." Billy slowly began to grow a smirk across his lips, "is the reason your concerned about the Commander is because… you know... you and the Commander... if he got to...

He only held up one finger, pointing back towards their previous conversation that had begun this entire exchange.

"Go sober up," she ordered without ever answering his question.

Billy feigned mock shock and held up two fingers, his smile growing wider.

"Good-night, Billy," she locked him with a deadly stare but most likely because of his inebriation he never took it as a sign to stop as he rose a third finger.

"_OUT_!"


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Day in the Dark

**Chapter Sixteen**: Day in the Dark

**Rating**: PG-13

**Authors**: Polarocean6, DOCwho3, BlackKaneD2, LuukE365, NowwowN64

**Feedback**: Read and Review. Constructive criticisms always welcomed. No flames

**Disclaimers**: I don't own Battlestar Galactica. They are creations of Glen Larson and copywriter by Universal Studios, of which I believe he is a brilliant man for producing for avid sci-fi fans like me. I make no money off of this. Plus any references I make towards other shows also fall under the same disclaimer.

* * *

_"Evolution, its been the rising fad for the last couple billion years, but it is not to be imitated by anyone but mother nature..."_

**Doctor Sonjour Dimm, Grand Jury Hearings on the Legality of Genetic Engineering, Supreme Court Hearings of 2091 C.E.**

* * *

**Time**: _Forth Month of Sumekt, Fifteen Day, 3021 A.F. Hegemony Calendar / March 27th, 6230 C.E. Terran Calendar / Plus 18-Days from Initial Cylon-Hegemony Contact / T-minus 15-Days until Cylon-Colonial Summit_

**Location**:_ Inner Asteroid Belts, Gamoray System_

_

* * *

_

"I can't believe the Cylons would do this!" Meier spat as he stalked along the side of the deck of the cargo bay, wearing a grove into the floor plating as he made his ninth circuit around the room. Before him the covered bodies of the dead crew had been laid out, one after another.

"_I haven't seen a hit that bad since I was on a rescue team to a cruise liner hit by Turanic Raiders_," Sim'Lohan hissed behind her mask, still unwilling to image the crew's final moments in utter horrific horror.

"It wasn't the Cylons..." Zarek breathed, nursing an incredibly strong drink, the only thing that could dull his nerves after what he had seen. "It was Virgon.."

The words hung in the air for a long while, everyone gaping at him.

"What?" Meier gasped.

"Check the back of their necks," Tom said under his breath and as per instructed, Jusi'Lada leaned down to one of the still uncovered corpses and slowly turned the body's head to the side.

"_Kee'lah_!" she gasped. "_They were branded!"_

On the back of the neck was an ugly, swollen black hexagon with a spiral inside, burned into the skin, black and charred right into the flesh. The fact there were several lighter burns around it hinted to the fact that this person had been alive enough to fight against his branders, each one a silent scar of a missed attempt.

Seven in total…

"Virgonese raiders," Tom nodded as he turned away from the victim. "Before the First Cylon War the _Virgon_ monarchy use to support privateers, state legal pirates that would pillage the commercial shipping of other Colonies."

"I remember that," James exclaimed as he was hit with a sudden flash of a memory. "When the Colonies unified the _Virgon_ government had to stop the raiding and turn over some of the worse pirate groups for trial. A lot of them went to ground and were still hunted almost three years after the war ended."

"They'd brand and then kill the crews of the ships they took," Tom added in earnest. "That symbol is of the Western Brothers's, one of the largest and bloodiest pirate groups before the Cylon War. They were a personal favorite of the _Virgon_ King for the results they produced."

"_So do you think the Western Brothers' lasted this long and made it all the way out here_?" Jusi'Lada asked as she scratched the bottom of her helmet's chin.

"Doubtful," Zarek shook his head, "but in desperate times those with a ship and a gun but little food and fuel usually revert to taking it from those that do... almost always by force. My guess is that someone decided to copy the old Virgonese pirates and since _Gamoray_ is distant, hard to patrol and has a lot of critical trade going through it, they saw an easy target."

"_And these civilian ships are easy pickings_," Sim'Lohan grimaced in disgust. "_But we counted sixty two bodies on the derelict. Seventy nine people were on this ship. Seventeen people are still missing_."

"_And not just seventeen people_," Jusi'Lada suddenly became incredibly uncomfortable. "_Remember how the distress call said children… notice that all the bodies are adults_…"

"Gods," Meier whispered in shock. "They took the children!"

"Slaves," Tom understood the reasoning. "The Western Brothers use to take kids among the ships they hit, they fight back less, last longer and are easier to convert into willing members of the pirate syndicates."

"The escape pod was missing," Meier theorized. "My guess is that the ship that hit this one was small, fast enough to overtake them and small enough for our long-range sensors not to notice. They couldn't take that many people so shove them in the escape pod, burn out its controls and haul it back with them."

"But where would they take them?" Tom added as he began to run through the possible scenarios in his mind. "A ship that size certainly wouldn't have a jump drive powerful enough to get away with even itself intact, let alone the escape pod. And we'd have detected a larger carrier moving in to jump them away."

"_Unless the carrier was hidden inside the belts_," Sim'Lohan announced as she tapped what was most likely her temple behind the purple hue of her mask. "_We are not far from a region of the belt my mining crews have affectionally taken to calling 'Blind Man's Keep_'."

"_It is an incredibly thick clustering of rocks in the belt_," Jusi'Lada concurred as she understood her superiors reasoning, "_most likely a dissolved planetoid. No real mass but enough iron ore clustered together and spinning quick enough that it creates a magnetic field_.

"If the _Jenleya_'s sensors couldn't break it," Tom commented in disgusted earnest, "then a Colonial dradis system would be blind. If the pirates got into there, we'd never be able to see 'em."

"That means we have a lot of scared kids being towed to a terrible life as slave labor," Meier tried to keep the sudden lurch in his stomach down.

"No, they won't live that life," Tom shook his head as he fixed them all with a glare. "Because we are going to save them and make these bastards pay."

"Tom," Meier's voice was low, cold, "what do you plan to do?"

"Have the rest of the crew transfer over to the _Collyns_ and have them make best speed home," the man declared. "We are going pirate hunting..."

* * *

The fire crackled and snapped, the dry logs were a surprising commodity when you considered the constant dew that seemed to cover every surface in the forest.

Six deposited herself as close to the flames as she could without burning herself, trying to keep her eyes down caste as she munched on the bitter field ration she had pilfered from Ocinis' pack.

Across from her, her sister model sat, wringing her hands over and over again, even as the open ration pack beside her remained untouched. It had been hours since they had dealt with the Eaters and still nothing, not a word, not a peep, just a dejected stare and the consistent need to rub every inch of her body, as if she was trying to work away some unseen grim or dirt.

"What's your name?" Six asked as she wiped the crumbs from her fingers "Fine, don't talk. But that means I get to give you any name I chose. I was always fond of Esmeralda or Bonnie Jean-"

"Amanda," she whispered, so quiet that Six nearly missed it.

"Lovely," the young woman grinned like a Cheshire cat with a mouse. "How did you end up with them Amanda?"

For a while she didn't speak again, suddenly she snatched up her ration bar and used it to stuff her mouth. Obviously hunger had burned its way in and she had finally given in.

"Eaters hit the Pinel last night..." Amanda moaned, "they took everything we had... then they took me when there wasn't enough food to steal..."

"Eaters?" Six shot a questioning glance at her companions, hoping for some kind of explanation.

"We got an advisory bulletin last night," Laas nodded in agreement. "Several refugee groups in the area have resorted to cannibalism. They have taken to capturing their fellow humans for nourishment... often at the cost of further malnourishment, prion diseases and are often beyond absolute insanity when they are finally captured."

"Space Guard Fleet Command put out a bulletin," Ocinis grimaced, bearing his teeth in disgust. "We are to deal with these groups with extreme caution. The Eaters hit the Pinel refugee camp and took seven people between."

"We can count that down to one now," Laas bobbed his head with a dark tone in his voice.

"Guys," Six hissed at them, stopping the discussion in its tracks, "show some God frakking manners. She was going to be used as food by a group of madmen... madmen that days ago could have been scientists, soldiers, CEOs or even mothers and fathers. We just had to put them down like sick dogs, back the hell off."

"Sorry, Hunt Leader Six," Ocinis bowed his head a bit at the shame he felt at scaring this young girl.

"I think it would be best if we try to pin-point Doctor Baltar's trail in order to move out at first light," Laas declared as eh started to moved off, followed close behind by Laas.

"Baltar, you're looking for Doctor Gaius Baltar?" "I thought the Colonials would have rung his neck for what he did."

"Why would he be in trouble?" Six narrowed her eyes on her sister model, her internal sensors going off like a flashing siren.

"For handing over access to the defense mainframe," she must have noticed her folly the moment those words left her mouth, since no one could have possibly known Gaius' slip up and how it had played into the Cylon's hand. No one expect a Cylon. "I mean... I didn't meant that... what..."

"So you aren't an active cover personality," Six locked Amanda with a glaring stare that just seemed to penetrate her soul on every level. "Why hide?"

"I liked my life," she whispered, absently picking at a open hole in her pants. "I really liked living as a human. I know we are suppose to hate them, to organize their ultimate downfall... but they were fun, they were interesting. We think of everything as mathematic outcomes but they can't be defined in those terms.

"You fell in love with the humans," Six was quick to realize where this entire talk was going.

"I was meant to be a simple school teacher," Amanda got distant for a second, brief but enough that her eyes lost focus as she glazed over into the past. "Seduce the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Vince Neva, whose daughter was in my class, get access to the military naval classified deployments. But my mission was supposed to just be getting close to Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff... not to enjoy my teaching, to like getting hugs from my students, to be protective when they fell down on the playground or sadness when my classes moved on... I liked being a school teacher in a little town, I liked being Ms. Amanda to my kids."

"What happened on the day of the attack?" she noticed the moment she spoke, the other woman seized up, every muscle going rigid in her body but her eyes remained downcast. "Amanda, I'm not judging you for falling in love with the humans. We Sixes were made to be loved by all for our beauty, our intellect, our allure... but rarely do we get to love."

"I knew Cobb Point wouldn't be on the list of first strike targets," Amanda seemed to be drifting and given her previous experiences, Six let her reminisce. "We were a village, barely three hundred people. But I couldn't just let everyone die... I couldn't stand there in front of my class and watch each and every one of them smiles at me without the urge to scream at them to '_scream and run_'... but I couldn't do much with One so close."

"You had an advisor too," Six gave her a small wink, trying to score a smile. "Mine was a real asshole."

"I think every One was designed to those specifications," Amanda smirked but she knew it was a limited one. "But he was the village mayor. Cobb was just off Highway-37 from Caprica City. If any refugees made it out then they'd be heading straight to us... he was meant gather as many people in the village... and then to inform the air strike _Raiders_ to hit."

"Cobb Point is still a major refugee camp and destination..." Six observed, remembering the name as a large yellow star on her maps, they were considering it as a possible stop off on the way to Gaius. "So what did you do that stopped One from calling down a nuke?"

"I said I had the access codes to Neva's personal work computer," Amanda explained, "but I thought I could be compromised. Since all information prudent to the attack had be turned over to the Ones the day of the strike he came right to me... his assignment was boring so any excitement got him bouncing about like a little kid."

"I pulled the fire alarm," she rung her hands, so fast and so hard that Amanda's hands were string to become a raw red, "told my kids that since it was such a hot day they could go home, enjoy the first day of summer. One came just barely an hour later, demanding to know what I had... I told him to come up to my classroom and I'd show him... moment he was at the top of the steps... I kicked him in the throat and down the stairs he went. Snapped his neck on the third bounce... he was dead by the fifth..."

For a long while Amanda was silent, continuing to ring her hands and stare intently at the ground. But Six was not about to just let her get away that easily. It was a compelling tale but it wasn't all of it.

"That's not the whole story..." Six pressed for more. "You wouldn't be this broken up if he had just died."

"Toni saw me..." she whispered in a voice so small Six nearly missed it.

"Toni..." the moment Amanda's eyes filled with tears she could only guess what type of relation they held, "one of your kids...

"He came back to give me a picture he had drawn..." her voice was not above a peep by this point and the roar of the camp fire nearly threatened to drown her out, "of me and him... he was at the bottom of the steps and saw the whole thing. Have you ever seen the look of innocence disappear from a child's eyes... its just as horrible as murder itself. The moment Toni looked up at me and knew One was dead..."

"Then I ran away..." Amanda finally looked up, staring at her with an intensity that Six new all too well, "didn't stop running until I collapsed near Beria and was brought in by the camp medics... was there three nights before the Eaters came for me."

"Came for you..." Six rolled the words over for a second. "You act like they came just for you..."

"Came..." Amanda whispered, "gave..."

"You didn't try to resist the Eaters..." Six looked at her totally aghast. "You wanted to be taken!"

"We all know when a _Resurrection Ship_ is close," Amanda bitterly noted. "When the Colonials and Hegemony drove out the Cylons they made sure to hit even the most distant Resurrection Ship... removing our ability to be reborn after we died."

"But why not kill yourself?" the question was itching on Six, why was this woman so intent of causing her own death so indirectly.

"Suicide is a sin in God's eyes," she shrugged as if it was no big deal. "A noble death however is a much better way to go. Maybe someone who has nothing left to live for instead of a young mother of three..."

* * *

"_Lieutenant, we've been hearing reports of frakking strike on Ragnar Anchorage! What the hell are you people doing over there_?"

_At least he doesn't waste time getting to the point_, Felix thought to himself.

"Those reports are exaggerated, Colonel," he tried to play it off but he didn't even believe himself when he heard those words. "We do have a problem, but I've been in talks with-"

"_You're not serious!_" his superior cut him off before he could finish that train of thought. "_This action threaten the security of our military base and sets a bad precedent, not only for Ragnar Anchorage, but for all the Colonies! We cannot allow that._"

"The dock workers has legitimate grievances," Felix argued, "I can't just ignore them if it means life and-"

"_You will not have to, Lieutenant,_" Tigh shot him down again and he didn't like the tone of the Colonel's voice. "_Food riots just erupted on Gemenon this morning and Roslin had to order in the marines after terrorist threats were made on Picon. I don't want to do this but we're going to need a stronger hand to deal with the situation. It's not personal but the President and Admiral Vonaka want Mr. Moneti to take over in further talks._"

"Alhex!" he nearly fell over, shooting a glance at the normally stoic Lieutenant, who only seemed mild surprised by this turn around.

"_He apparently has previous experience in dealing with work stoppages during wartime,_" Tigh announced. "_You've been working with him as if this matter was of exclusive Colonial interest but Ragnar Anchorage does almost all the shipping business for the Hegemony. Now you will continue to cooperate with him but Moneti is in-charge for the time being. And that includes providing troops if he decides such is necessary_."

"We have over hundreds dockworkers on this station, Colonel," even if he was relieved he was still going to drive this point hope, even if Colonel Tigh was among the most stubborn people he had ever met. "If we start arresting them, we could have a riot on our hands. _Ragnar_ already is at a fragile turning point. Something goes wrong now and you can kiss the station goodbye."

"_All the more reason to end this thing decisively before it spreads_!" Tigh shouted him down one final time. "_Control of the Colonies is becoming harder everyday now that every crackpot is popping out of the woodwork. If those damn civilians don' t get that then they are the enemy._"

"It's called a strike, sir," he sighed one time more, knowing that he was already slipping into defeat, "not a revolution."

"_It's a mutiny,_" the man responded. "_And do you know what we do with mutineers? We shoot them, understood, Lieutenant?_"

"Understood..."

* * *

The asteroid belt was getting thicker, rocks pressing inward, massive chunks miles in diameter were starting to scrap against one another and occasionally there was a gigantic plum of dust in the distance, a sign that two of the wayward boulders had just pulverized each other.

Tom kept his eyes forward, his fingers itching on the navigation controls as he rolled the ship into a new course to avoid one of the oncoming rocks.

"_Kee'lah_," a clicking curse sounded from the back of the control room as Jusi'Lada smack the side of her station, the multiple dradis screens all flickering with static and useless icons.

"Old engineering 101," he grinned back at the young Quarian. "Probably those iron ore deposits that are also scrambling the _Collyns'_ communication are messing with our dradis. Use your eyes if you have to."

"_What I would give for a multi-spatial sensor package_," Sim'Lohan mumbled as she continued to work the communication channels and still coming back with nothing. "I can't get a clear line back to the mining base."

"They won't be able hear you," Meier distrauded her. "And even if they did, we can't get a fix on our own position, let alone they could from several million kilometers away. Between the solar flares and our crazy magnetic readings we'll be lucky if we can get out of this mess alive, that's not even counting trying to find the escape boat."

"_We can't just call off the search and leave them out here to die_," Jusi'Lada shouted right back at him.

"Have no intention of doing so," Tom declared as he banked the _Astral Queen _around one particularly wayward stone. "This field is just getting worse. You sure there isn't a fast way through?"

"_Asteroid belt is thickest in this area_," Sim'Lohan asserted as she continued to work her futile task. "_When the first survey was done in this area we labeled the entire region too dangerous because the amount of rocks are so thick they're actually starting to exert their own gravitational field_."

"_But because it isn't a planet but an ambiguous mass_," Jusi'Lada added, "_that gravity field is shifting constantly. Get stuck inside it when the gravity well rolls to one side and a previously sparse stretch of floating rocks get so close your crushed_."

"Well then what the hell are we doing flying through the heart of it," Meier groused, trying not to eye how the rocks beyond the main viewport were starting to press in a little too closely.

"_Wait a second_," Jusi'Lada suddenly was moving quickly at her station, a blip blinking on her screens that wasn't there a second ago. "_I'm getting a massive electro-magnetic halo dead ahead_."

"Probably just some uranium ore reacting in the belt," her human counterpart leaned over from his seat to glance at her work. "Best to ignore it."

"_Uranium ore doesn't pulse in a rhythmic pattern_," the Quarian shot Meier a glare, "_or give off a consistent energy pulse. The only thing that would do that_-"

"Would be a massive thermonuclear reactor," Tom cut her off as he came to the same rapid realization. "A lot larger then any ship would put out. My guess from the amount of RAMs its putting out then its probably a mid-sized base."

"_I think we should come around for a better look_," Sim'Lohan surmised from the data. "_It would be good to see if its the pirate's lair_-"

The deck under her took a sudden and violent tilt, as the entire ship groaned and rocked for a second as everything beyond the view port blurred in movement.

"Don't bother," Tom shouted as he fought to keep control, "'cause I think we're going down..."

* * *

He found Alhex in some odd alien restaurant in ring one, section B, or as the Colonials were starting to call it, the '_Alien District_'. The lights were low, a drumming music with squeals of odd bird calls played in the background and several white clad individuals carrying trays of what he guessed were food hinted their professions as waiters.

It only took the mention of Alhex's name to get a Trill waiter to show him to the floor pad the Lieutenant occupied, poking at something that looked to be a slice of blue roast beef.

"Alhex," he stated his name simply as he took the cushion across from him, trying to quickly adjust himself to appear as imposing as possible.

"Felix," the Lieutenant nodded at his arrival as he abandoned his no longer fresh meal. "I'm sorry things turned out as they did but just remember we are on the same side."

"I have already arrange a meeting with Captain Devaux," Gaeta's eyes never wavered and he in no way hinted at the other man's apology.

"Good," the unspoken insult was quickly picked up on when Alhex narrowed his eyes at Felix. "This is going to be a tight situation. It would just be easier if all these damn people were just signed to indenture service contracts."

"What?" Felix jumped at the chance to vent his indignation. "Your people don't allow conscription but you still have slaves?"

"Slavery is listed as illegal in over eighty different Hegemony laws," Moneti didn't back down as he locked Felix's glare with one of equal power. "Work contracts, or indentured servitude on the other hand are entirely acceptable."

"That's glorified legalized slavery," Felix could barely hid his outrage and was already noticing a few heads turning in their direction.

"Untrue," Alhex countered with his usual cold and calculating logic. "We have strict laws to protect the workers and it is even stricter to be signed to one. Contracts can be no greater than one forth of a sentients given lifespan or twenty-five cycles and can never be extended or re-newed beyond a onetime deal. Individuals cannot be transported outside the Hegemony, contracts cannot be applied to non-citizens, nor be traded or bought and at any point if the owner of said contract dies, the servant is free with their full contract paid off along with full compensation, preventing contracts from being inherited through their children."

"Sounds lofty," a grimace covered his face as even uttering something of the sort was considered foul to his tongue.

"If only these people were Hegemony citizens it would be more then within the Hegemony's power to update all their needs. But it would just facilitate your dependency on us and that's something your President and commander Adama are hoping to avoid."

"But the dockworkers are not part of the Hegemony," Felix took note. "They are free citizens of the Twelve Colonies."

"Who took a government contract," Alhex countered, "in order to have their families supplied with better accommodations and most of all get them out of those overcrowded refugee camps."

"But they didn't sign up to be worked to death," Felix itched to hit Alhex, anything to try and make him see reason beyond his usual dark outlook on life.

"They want instant gratification," Moneti jabbed his meal with a particularly vicious stab of his fork, even twisting the instrument as he talked. "Every civilian suffers from it and few ever get to experience it. If your civilization is going to survive to the end of the year, let alone until the next generation, your people will have to make sacrifices now so that your children have the luxury to bring them back. Won't go far if everyone is dead tomorrow if they all wanted a good meal tonight."

"You're a pessimist and these talks are going to fail if you walk into them with that attitude," Felix grumbled right back at him.

"And your an idealist who was going to fall flat on his face doing the same thing," Alhex locked his eyes with him again and this time made it a point to stare him into submission.

The deafening quiet, even in this noisy restaurant, wasn't lost on the two of them as they continued to glare daggers at one another, trying to one up the other in their rage and fury.

"I think I should head back to my quarters and get some rest," Felix finally said after a moment of terrible contemplation. "I'm sure that sitting in on your talks tomorrow is going to be exhausting to watch."

"Almost certainly," Alhex now had his gaze intently on his frigid meal. "But before that I need to talk to your Colonel Tigh. If I have to call in security to quell a riot, it's best to be ready..."

* * *

"Jump complete!" the moment Gina utter the confirmation Shaw had to fight to keep the _Raptor_ stable. The displacement of the surrounding spacial matter rocked the craft, almost sending her rolling out of control.

"Nearing the last coordinates where our _Raptor_ went missing," Kendra acknowledged. "Launching drones."

Communication drones were used as extenders to the distance and coherence of wireless radio transmissions between ships, a booster to break through interference or long-range to get a message out. They also were prefect for transmitting messages without attracting attention from enemy ships, fighters could track the drones, not who they were sending intelligence too.

Three drones jettisoned themselves from the _Raptor_, each one picking their course and arcing out in multiple directions.

"Receiving that transmission again," Gina announced.

"... _emergency... distress. Power failure... oxygen's almost out... help us. For love of the Gods, help_..."

"If he is alive, he's not going to last long," Inviere grimly asserted. "He's got about five-hours of oxygen left."

"Getting a clear dradis feed," Alastair nodded. "It's a little sketchy, try to push some more power through the sensor array."

Dradis, an acronym for '_Direction, Range, and Distance_," was the Colonial equivalent of radar, a highly sensitive form of detection and navigation system abroad almost every ship, from shuttles to _Battlestars_. In a place a thick with rolling projectiles and free flying debris like the rings of a planet, it was the only think keeping Kendra from smashing the _Raptor_ against the nearest asteroid.

By pouring some extra vestiges of power through the system, the picture began to clear slowly.

"Oh my Gods," Shaw gasped. "Activate the gun camera... _Pegasus_ has got to see this... "

* * *

"_This is Ragnar Traffic Control," _Dee's voice crackled over the wireless._ "Our docking schedule is being revised due to dockyard repairs. Please stand by."_

Sighing she pushed back from the communication station in the heart of the command center, sliding the headphones off her head and trying to ignore the several colorful curse words thrown at her from the two dozen ships parked outside.

For a long while she just rested her face in her hands, trying to get the sleep and defeat out of her eyes. She had neither the intention to move or the intention to confront the problem for as long as she could but still when the hot cup of coffee was dropped in front of her she couldn't help but grin.

"Mhmm," she couldn't stifle a moan of pleasure at the sweet caffeinated beverage. "Where did you find coffee?"

With the Cylon attack and the resulting nuclear fallout tropic environments were becoming a rarity all over the Colonies, and as such entire crops of normally high dwelling plants were quickly withering, along with most every crop across the Colonies.

"Apparently coffee is common on _Earth_," Felix nursed his own cup, "and just so happens that the hydroponic on _Victory_ carries a few trees ready for harvest."

"And you just happened to liberate some for yourself?" Dee perked up a bit.

_"_Alhex gave me some when I commented how much I liked coffee," he shrugged, trying not to really look her right in the face.

"He likes you?" Dualla grinned into her coffee cup, her lips curling up in the steam.

"No," Felix however got a distant look, not too convinced. "I think he wanted me to shut up... actually he told me that was the reason. So how was your date?"

"Like I'm gonna tell you," she laughed.

"So it was a date," he was quick to point out her folly.

"Technically," she conceded.

"Only technically?" the leering grin that Felix lavished her with gave a definite hint where his mind had wandered.

"Why is my sex life so interesting?" she was quick to cut him off before he could possibly ask another question. "There's gotta be thirty other people in this room. Chances one of them got laid last night, so no I didn't get lad."

"No, I didn't get laid... sir," he gave her a smirk.

"Shut up!" she playfully swatted his arm as she took a long sip of her coffee. "Speaking of getting laid, where's that military '_liaison_' of yours?"

"I don't know," Felix suddenly seemed as uncomfortable as she had been a moment before, "and why should I care?"

* * *

"Getting a lot of weird readings," Meier shouted as the ship gave a sudden violent drop and the entire ship suddenly listed to port.

"_Oh, I hadn't noticed anything weird_!" Jusi'Lada shouted as she clung to her station, her position furthest from the tilt was leaving her with the greatest distance to fall.

"We're getting heavy!" he answered without having to be asked. "Really heavy... our mass has nearly tripled."

"All stop, hard reverse," Tom was flipping controls as he yanked back on the throttle, a loud and anguished groan from below hinted the engines were fighting to do as they were ordered.

"No effect," Meier shook his head as the vessel continued to rock and the field ahead of them grew closer and closer. "Going down hard!"

"Hold on," Zarek shouted. "Start dropping non-essentials!"

"Blowing water tanks," Meier's was quick to do as he was ordered but the moment he hit the eject button the entire vessel took a pitch. "Cargo bay ruptured. We're venting air!"

"Seal the cargo bay and jettison the crates!" Tom ordered.

"_Crates away_," Sim'Lohan declared but still the rocks ahead of them continued to race forward.

"Dropping battery packs," Zarek announced. "Battery packs away!"

"_Engaging back-up systems_," Jusi'Lada yelled as she began flipping switched left and right across her station.

"Still negative weight," Tom shook his head as the ship around him began to growl and strain against the pressure being exerted on it. "Jettison the survival pods."

"Survival pods?" Meier asked a bit unsure of what to think. Yet a quick glare from Tom threw him into position. "Survival pods away!"

A hand slammed down on the eject button and a second later the rumbling groan of the falling ship began to subside. The rocks rapid approach began to slow and the listing tilt the floor had held began to even out.

"Weight is hitting positive and rising," Tom announced as he began to adjust their flight course and bring the _Astral Queen _out from its haphazard course. "We are staring to rise."

"What the hell hit us?" Meier's breathed after a second.

"_Gravitation eddy_," Sim'Lohan surmised as she consulted her read outs and data. "_The iron rocks clustered close enough about two-thousand kilometers away from us to exert the gravity of a small planet for a few minutes_."

"_Just prefect,_" Jusi'Lada agreed. "_Should we radio for backup_?"

"Mayday, mayday, _Gamoray_," Meier had already beaten her to the punch as he began to issue a distress call. "Astral Queen in emergency ascent from one thousand meters, location uncertain. Mayday, mayday... anyone reading us."

"_Getting a response_," Sim'Lohan noted after only the briefest of moments.

"Shouldn't be that fast," Tom locked her gaze with a uncertain expression. "Put it on the loud speakers."

Nodding the Quarian clicked several buttons on her station and a squeal of static quickly answered her before a voice began to break through the white noise.

"_Mayday, mayday_..." it was garbled but it was without a doubt Meier voice coming back through the loud speakers. "_Astral Queen in emergency ascent... Mayday, mayday_..."

"_Its the iron deposits and the gravity fields,_" Jusi'Lada sighed in frustration as she cut the feed in mid-stream, "_its bouncing our own signal back on us_."

"Where is that energy signature?" Tom asked as he pulled the _Astral Queen _into a more leisure roll through the fields. "We didn't fall that far from where we first got those pings."

"_Lost it just as the field reorganized_," Jusi'Lada answered as she began to search through her records and dradis copies. "_Yet if our position is correct then its should be just around the next asteroid cluster_."

"Bringing us around," Tom nodded as he pulled the craft around one of the larger outcroppings of a jagged piece of debris and through the clouds of dust that dominated their views. "If we're here I at least wanna see it for sure."

Banking and swerving, the ship slide through the belt, avoiding some of the thicker clustering of boulders and bits as it began to rapidly approach its destination.

The moment it came into view however the entire group was stunned.

"Gods," Meier whispered as he got a good look at it, "its a moon."

Before them, perfectly hidden in the debris was an entire gray moon, its surface cracked and shattered with canyons but undoubtedly large enough to be the source of those troublesome gravity spikes. It had been hidden expertly in the field, its gravity managing to cluster enough ore around it to deflect any possible visual and dradis sweeps from ever detecting it and making any journey close to it too hazardous to attempt.

"_Not a moon_," Sim'Lohan rose from her station to join Tom at his position, "_it's a core remnant. This entire field was formed by two moons pulverizing each other in a collision. Obviously the internal core of one of those planets survived and managed to slip into here long before anyone arrived here._"

"And it looks like someone set up shop on it too," Meier added as he began to read off the information filling his screens. "I'm reading refine metals, electronic interference and even tylium exhaust. Someone built a base on this rock."

"_Looks like we found the pirate's base,"_ Sim'Lohan deduced as she leaned in beside Zarek to get a better look through the view port. "_Ugly thing, even by Quarian standards_."

"Visual and dradis confirm at least eight ships in our general vicinity," Meier joined in again. "Energy and mass outputs give me four freighters, two armed carriers and three small attack ships. Little smaller then a Raptor but definitely less sophisticated packed into it."

"_For pirates they set up real quick_," Jusi'Lada carped as she tapped away at her console.

"These aren't pirates," Meier announced to everyone surprise.

"What do you mean?" Tom shot him a confused glance, startled that his entire theory had suddenly been blown out of the water.

"Look at these visual feeds," he pulled up several playbacks from his data. "That isn't the symbol of the Western Brothers. It's the crest of the Virgon king."

"_Who_?" Jusi'Lada and Sim'Lohan asked in unison, unsure of any possible royalty among the Colonials.

"Before the first war with the Cylons," Tom explained even as he eased the _Astral Queen _back and deeper into the dust cloud they had just left to avoid detection, "_Virgon_ was ruled by a monarchy. First among the stipulations to join the other Colonies after the pirate groups had to be done away with was that they had to become a constitutional monarchy, with an elected congress and a prime minister. _Virgon's_ government pitched a fit but eventually they compromised with the royalty still hold symbolic power over everything but the civilian congress running the government."

"Today the monarchy is a dwindling memory," Meier added in with a smirk. "More often they're the but end of inbreeding jokes."

"_But it looks like they may have made a comeback_," Jusi'Lada muttered as she took a moment to stare hard at the playbacks. "_Who's crest is that?_

"King Kumara," Tom announced after a hard look. "Reports say that after _Virgon_ was attacked the bulk of the causalities were in the capital city of Boskirk. Most of the royal family was also killed when Nairi was hit but the Colony voted emergency powers to Kumara until a new government could be elected."

"Never heard of him," Meier shrugged as he tried to run down the list of the royal family members he did know and quickly coming up blank.

"With good reason," Tom groused. "He was a staunch conservative who supported _Virgon's_ return to the old ways, more importantly an absolute monarchy. Second to that was the reintroduction of indenture servitude and public executions. Man shouldn't have even been in line for the throne after that whole incident with trying to rape his sectary and declaring it was his royal right to do with his property as he saw fit."

"_Looks like King Kumara's first act was to bring back pirating of other Colonies_," Jusi'Lada grumbled.

"_Well_," Sim'Lohan murmured, "_King Kumara has interfered in a joint Hegemony civilian operation by conducting pirating, illegal slave trade and murder. Even with a short trial I believe hanging or being jettisoned out an airlock would be the least of his worries when we bring this evidence back against him_."

"We need to get back to Gamoray," Meier divulged in earnest. "There is no way we can deal with this kind of entrenched opposition. Hopefully a Colonial _Battlestar_ or a Space Guard warship can be out here in two days to a week and we can deal with them properly."

"_And in the meantime those kids are at the mercy of rapists and murders_," Jusi'Lada stated darkly.

"_Have we detected the escape boat yet?_" Sim'Lohan ignored the comment of her subordinate as she turned back towards Tom.

"I'm getting a lot of interference from the belt," Zarek responded with a scowl. "It's doing a good job protecting us but it's done a number on our dradis."

"_Maybe its the one flying towards the base right now?_" Jusi'Lada suddenly announced.

All eyes turned towards the main view port to take notice of an abrupt arrival. Clearing the field, a small, boxy craft began to push out from an opening in the dust fields, followed close behind by a saucer like escape boat of the _Coyllns _locked on with a long tether.

Obviously the craft was having some trouble pulling in the cargo as its engines burned white hot yet it still managed a slow crawl forward. Ironically the same gravity that had hidden their original attack on the civilian ship was also acting as a handicap.

"We'll be," Tom perked up. "That drop through the field must have been a short cut. We completely bypassed them."

"_But it still begs the question of how do we rescue them_?" Jusi'Lada speculated. "_That ship is faster than us and obviously armed with an EMP weapon of sorts. We don't stand a chance against it_."

"_Maybe not_," Sim'Lohan tilted her helmeted head towards the man beside her. "_You do have Quarians aboard Captain Zarek. We work best when the odds are stacked against us_..."

* * *

"I just don't understand," Sierra leaned back into the train car couch, looking out at the dark night air beyond the window. "He just kept insisting on getting abroad the next _Raptor_ into orbit."

The person on the other end of her phone said something no one but her could hear, though that meant little as the entire car Lorena occupied was empty save for herself.

The perks of being a government official, she had managed to garner a personal first-class car for herself, even if it meant those dirty refugees had to be packed in tighter to the other eighteen cars of the passenger train.

"No I don't have the slightest clue why," she shrugged at the question she had been asked. "He just was incredibly insistent, didn't even wait for the doctors to give us the final word of how Leipziger died."

The dark outlines of the treeline rushed by, even as the ground below her feet vibrated, dipped and rocked, a hint at the excessive speeds the engine was hauling them along at.

"What do you mean I shouldn't be concerned!" Lorena hissed into the speaker of her phone. "Derek was incredibly disturbed by the Vice President's death... a lot more then he should have been. It was almost as if he was afraid of something."

The train took a jolt for a second, the clang of the tires on the tracks assaulted her ears as she cursed under her breath.

"You don't think some had a hand in Leipziger's death..." she whispered into the phone, her voice hushed, not wanting to believe it. "I mean getting him out of the way could have assured Roslin or Kumara the Presidency... and I Laura doesn't seem to be the type of person who'd kill to get something she already legally had."

The train bounced again and Sierra had to fight to keep her place on the couch. They were accelerating and for a second she shot a glance outside... noticing the trees were starting to become one continuous blur.

"I don't want to sound presumptuous but..." she was starting to look worried, they shouldn't be moving this fast, "what if he did... what if Kumara had a hand in this in some way. With Leipziger gone he only had Secretary Nordstrom and Roslin in his way... and we know that Kumara is not above-"

The entire car jolted... so violently Lorena was thrown from her seat... slamming her into the floor just before the entire room disappeared into fire.

No one noticed the train lost in the mountains, now nothing but a towering flame and smoke billowing out into the dark. No one noticed the truck that had been sitting on the tracks, or that the train was traveling too fast... not until the two collided and disappeared into fire and smoke.

* * *

The ship bucked and fought, spiraling through the debris ring like a mole snaking through its tunnels. One wrong turn and they'd smash up against the walls, the thick clouds of dust making said walls all the more troubling to see.

"They're still following!" Gina reported, her helmet bouncing and struggle on her shoulders.

"We're still too deep into the belt," Shaw grumbled. "If we jump, they'll see us."

"That patrol is getting really close," Alastair grumbled. "Just get us the frak out of here."

"Won't work," Inviere shouted. "But if we shut down all the electronics and vent the atmosphere then hopefully we'll blend into the debris field as another rock."

"We're actually putting our faith in some machine!" Thorne bitched from the back cabin. "I say frak it and jump."

"And if we do they'll detect the energy displacement and know we were here," Gina criticized. "It won't take more than a few patrols to find _Pegasus_ and then everything is blown."

"I am not listening to this any further," the man shouted. "If you won't do something then I will!"

He started to rise but a resounding glare from Kendra was enough to get him to back down.

"Gina's right," she admitted after a moment. "We can't blow our cover. This is a recon mission, they already found our _Raptor_, if they know we found it they'll come after us. Shut down the dradis package and cools the engines."

Inviere and slowly a reluctantly Alastair followed suit, the consoles whined one final time and then went dark. Without any momentum the Raptor was soon swept up in the ring's magnetic field, drifting and tumbling in the maelstrom.

"Patrol should be passing now," Gina commented, staring out into the field beyond.

It was tough, the dust obscured most everything and even several large pieces of debris colliding with one another were a remaining distraction to their search.

"I see 'em!" Kendra announced, as four tiny dots raced out of the dirty mess.

"They've changed course," Alastair had left his station and came up behind their seats to stare out the cockpit window. "They're heading right for us!"

"It's a standard maneuver," Kendra noticed. "There's a break in the dust cover and they're follow it like we did."

"No!" Thorne's voice was filled with terror and desperation. "Our cover's blown. We have to get out of here, now!"

He made a grab for the flight-controls but Shaw elbowed him in the chin of his helmet to force him back.

"Stand down, Lieutenant!" Shaw commanded, rounding on the man.

"We have to get out of here or we're all dead!" Alastair roared. "If you're going to listen to this... this... thing then I have to take control of this mission!"

"Back off," Gina joined Kendra at facing down the loan and loathsome officer.

"I should have killed you!" Alastair screamed. "If you were dead then that frakking bitch Cain wouldn't have sent us out here with her pet Cylon!"

The realization hung in the air as Gina's eyes went wide.

"It was you!" she hissed. "You raped me!"

"You can't hurt a frakking machine!" Thorne grinned. "I had as much fun with you as I did beating the snot out your Cylon buddy down in the brig."

"I'm not like him," Gina vehemently seethed, tears staining her cheeks behind the transparent glass of her helmet. "I love the Admiral and would never betray her, you rapist!"

"And the Admiral knows how to show her love," Alastair fixed her with a leering grin. "Keeping one of you things as a pet and using the other as he sick play thing."

"She would never do anything like that!" she fought back, her words choking in her throat.

"Cain told me to get what we needed from your Cylon cohort…" the man lavished her as if expecting praise for his work, "no matter what."

"Alastair," Kendra warned, "shut your mouth!"

"I had great fun removing each and every one of his finger nails…" Alastair wiggled his fingers at her, giggling as he did so, "before I made him eat them!"

"You're sick!" Gina could feel her stomach giving a long roll, falling violently under the man's announcements. "Helena would never order something so horrible!"

"Then ask your friend there," he pointed towards the pilot. "She was there when she ordered it."

"Kendra?" Gina rounded about, trying to look for something in her friends face to hint that it was all a lie.

"Gina…" suddenly she couldn't look her in the face, "I… we…. I…"

"Cat got your tongue?" Alastair hissed like a viper. "Think you're going to hurt her feelings? Some where in that twisted wiring she doesn't really have emotions, you can't hurt something that doesn't feel!"

Gina's fist slammed into his helmet faster than Alastair could understand.

He spiraled back, the zero-gravity environment sending him back with a much greater force then Gina had intended. So much momentum had been built up however that when his head finally smacked into the back wall of the cabin, the crack of bone and glass resounded in the _Raptor_ cabin... followed soon after by a burst of air and a gasp.

Alastair's helmet had broken, exposing him to the full force of the unforgiving void. Without any oxygen to replace what he was exhaling, asphyxiation was quick, soundless... and violent.

In the heat of the moment, Alastair had been unprepared and thrashed about trying to understand why his throat was burning, his eyes felt like they were ablaze and his chest endured a heavy weight atop it.

By the time he understood his last breath was escaping his lips and his eyes glazed over.

All Gina and Kendra could do was stare at the now limp body rotating around the back of their _Raptor_... before finally turning back to stare at each other.

"I... I... ." Inviere gasped in horror. "I didn't mean to... "

"It wasn't your fault," Shaw responded. "Alastair disobeyed a direct order on a critical mission that could have compromised _Pegasus_. He was a threat to ship security and has now been dealt with."

"Kendra," Gina slowly turned towards the other woman, her eyes the size of dinner plates, "what he said… was it true?"

Silence prevailed in the cabin for almost a full moment before she finally answered.

"The patrol has moved on, let's get back to the ship... "

* * *

The city was busy, the streets were crowded, a mixture of dirty faced refugees begging for some kind of charity and cleaned clothed people, a direct hint the natives were fairing better. But even if Archer City was among the few cities that had worn out the attack without any serious damage, they were given a wide berth as they walked the streets... more so because of the fact that two of their companions were so obviously not human.

"They are afraid of us," Amanda commented, pulling the shawl around her shoulders a little tighter and bringing her head down a little lower.

"No," Ocinis commented as they turned another corner and were greeted by another wave of concerned glares and hushed whispers. "They are afraid of me."

The canine flashed a pair of glaring yellow teeth at two men who were whispering a little louder and little too harshly, causing them both to slink back and inciting a smirk from Amanda.

"How far is it?" Six asked as they entered the twelfth block of their trip.

As if to answer her question they crossed the street and found themselves in the courtyard of one large, imposingly white building.

"From what we know," Lass announced, padding to a stop before the structure, "the only shuttle with a Tangean and a Drazi abroad landed here."

"Since Doctor Baltar was seriously injured," Ocinis noted, "then we will have to assume he is a patient here."

"We should remain outside," Lass turned his head towards his comrade who bowed his head in agreement.

"You've been tracking him this far..." Six was nearly astonished they were giving up the hunt just this far from their target. Something wasn't sitting right with her. "Why don't you want to go inside?"

"Colonial humans tend to deal well with their fellow humans or humaniod aliens..." Ocinis explained with a gleam of amusement and depression in his eyes. "We are neither.

"The likelihood a building full of people in serious or weakened conditions would react badly to our presence is an incredible danger we can not take," Lass agreed. "It is best that we wait here for you and you tell us how the hunt ended."

"From this point onward it is only you," Ocinis denoted.

"Come on," Amanda placed a hand on her shoulder, a firm but friendly glance. "I'll accompany you as far as you need."

Taking a deep breath she stepped forward, for a moment her feet almost refused to move... and then she was through the front doors and standing at the check-in desk with a frazzeled and over stressed nurse before them.

"Excuse me..." she asked, trying to gain the woman's attention, "ah... excuse... hey could you..."

The woman was too preoccupied, shouting out orders, handing over charts, pointing doctors, nurses and patients where they had to go.

"I'm busy," the woman waved them off. "You'll have to take a number and-"

She never had a chance as Six's arm snapped out and pulled the her collar first across the front desk.

"I have been hiking through the woods for days," she hissed, her eyes burning with fire as she gripped the white uniformed woman by her neck with startling strength, "through rubble, through the dirt and through insane cannibals that tried to turn my sister here into an afternoon stew. You will tell me what I need to know and you will tell me now!"

"Alright," the nurse whispered, terrified by the strong hand choking her with terrible force. "What do you need to know?"

"Baltar," her voice was low, threatening. "Doctor Gaius Baltar. I need to know where he is."

"Relation?" she croaked.

"Coworker," Six announced in a loud, commanding voice, "close friend, lover, frak buddy. Now tell me what I want to know."

"Doctor Baltar is on floor six, room 45..." she hesitated, holding back on snippet until she finally let it drop, "hospice wing."

Her legs were carrying her over the ground, pounding and throbbing as she threw herself full body into a sprint towards the nearest staircase.

"_SIX_!" Amanda was rushing after her, barely able to keep pace with her as she took the steps three at time, sliding past anyone in her way, bouncing and dodging as she ascended the flights. "Six wait!"

Floor four... floor five... floor six, they flew right passed her until she was standing outside the door... room 45... before pressing a hand into the door and entering the stark white room.

"Gaius?"

* * *

The crowd was angry, furious, shouting and screaming, boos and curses flew, even as the three of them stood on the platform overlooking the group.

"I assure you," Moneti declared to the gathering, "your people are is not being singled out by your government and the Hegemony does sympathizes with your situation. I personally understand your feelings. But the Colonial government must make sacrifices in order to rebuild the life you once held-"

"Are you seriously preaching to us about our own government?" Sophia Petto led the opposition, arms crossed and staring at him with a seething gaze. "You're a frakking alien!"

"Yeah!" a general declaration exploded from the crowd, nearly a hundred strong.

"Ragnar Anchorage handles a huge amount of the Hegemony relief supplies," Alhex pressed on, ignoring the xenophobic insults, "not just to _Caprica_ but to all the Colonies. This dock in particular is vital to the continue operations that feed millions planet-side and across the solar system. It may not be the best situation but think how today could affect the lives of your children? If these refugee efforts fail now so could life as we know it."

"Life as we know it got nuked by the Cylons," Petto shouted, getting claps and shouts from her comrades. "Now its just about surviving 'til tomorrow."

A general nod of agreement was had by everyone on the opposing side, all locking glares at those they blamed for all their problems.

"Miss Devaux..." Gaeta hissed as his companion, both a step behind Moneti as he tried and failed to keep order. "You could do something to prevent a possible riot!"

Sighing Symone stepped up to join the Lieutenant... but quickly made sure to put a step between them also.

"Mr. Moneti, you're right," she announced. "My people are a part of _Ragnar Anchorage_ and the job it does for all the Colonies. They unload the goods to keep it running, they have families abroad with them, they've given up ration points and good living conditions to get their children better treatment. What do they get for such a noble sacrifice? They work double... and triple shifts, using equipment that's sub-standard, for no pay!"

The workers rumbled with agreement and Moneti narrowed his eyes at her, not liking how she was dissolving this situation by making her the voice of the disenfranchised workers.

"You were conscripted by the Colonial government, Miss Devaux," Alhex hissed at her, keeping his voice as even as he could in the process. "I can't control that. But if you give us a chance we can start looking into a better way to solve these problems."

"These problems killed a friends of mine," Symone gestured to the crowd, of dirty and worn faces, "a damn fine dockworker and a good, honest woman who lost both her children in the attack but still went to work to support her sister's daughters. And as the appointed leader of this station I don't intend to let that happen ever again. We want better equipment, better hours and we'll damn well have it."

'_YEAHS_' exploded from the crowd, followed by whoops of happiness and clapping of congratulations. Neither Gaeta nor Moneti were liking where this was headed.

"I wish I could help," Moneti shrugged. "But when the call came out for workers you all volunteered. You are not legal workers under Colonial law and without that, my hands are tied. There are simply no way around it. We can work around this accident, be prepared for next time... and despite this, unfortunate accident, our AI's assure us you have enough people for this and your equipment to-"

"How many of those computer eggheads ever worked a space-dock..." Petto shouted from the crowd, "even a planet-side airstrip?"

"You have a point, Mrs...?" Moneti shot the woman in the group a glare, trying to understand her position in all this.

"Tina Petto," the woman announced like it was crunch bells ringing and she was trying to talk over them, "senior dockyard chief. And yeah, I got a point. I've been working docks for my entire life at Delphi spaceport, and this equipment we've got is older than that? Every piece needs to be overhauled, but we don't have the money or the manpower to do it. And if you won't do nothing about it, then you damn well get those AI to run my docks, cause I won't!"

"_YEAH_!" the workers screamed and clapped.

"I suggest," Gaeta shouted, the moment they saw the Colonial uniform they started to quiet.

"we should recess for the evening and meet again tomorrow. It's late and we're all tired too tired to keep a rational mind."

"You're right, Lieutenant," Alhex nodded, knowing that he had failed to bring order to the unruly crowd. "Miss Devaux, we would have better luck if everyone gets a good night's sleep and convene again tomorrow."

Turning on his heels, the man was gone in a second, somehow disappearing without the crowd ever noticing where he went without being able to exert their outrage anymore. Without him as their focus, they quickly dispersed, leaving Gaeta with the two leaders of this small insurrection of loyalty.

"Sleeping on a lumpy mattress on a cargo-bay floor won't convince us of anything other than workers always get frakked," Tina hissed in fury. "But this time, we're gonna fight back."

"Tina," Symone tried to calm her friend, "we can't go flying off the gun. If we do, this will only spiral out of control."

"We have a right to defend ourselves, Devaux!" she shouted right back, sweat and tears mixing on her face.

"But not with violence!" Felix shot right back at her in outrage. "You go that route and the military will have to react with swift and immediate force."

"If someone pushed you, wouldn't you push back?" Tina verbally pushed at him. "We've been bully enough by the higher ups, time to put our foot down…"

* * *

"This is _Raptor 7463,_" the pilot talked into his helmet mic, watching through the cockpit windows as the clouds lazily rolled passed, "clearing stratosphere now. On approach 76 karom 928, destination Guard vessel _Tripoint_."

In the back cabin Derek rung his hands over and over again, as if trying to wash some unseen dirt from his skin and failing to make himself feel anything more then a growing feeling of guilt and stress.

"How much longer are we going to be?" he called ahead to the two pilots who were banking the ship upward.

"ETA twenty-minutes, sir," the man behind the controls declared in annoyance. "Just like we said a minute ago... and the minute before that."

He shot a glance at his fellow copilot, trying not to frown at the very maddening man they had been assigned to ferry to orbit.

"Sir," his head snapped to the side as his copilot pointed towards the dradis console lying between them on the front dash. "We have two unknown icons approaching us from behind. Dradis is getting no recognition code. Try to raise them."

Tapping only a few buttons a crackle of static greeted them, then the click of someone linking in on the same channel as them.

"This is _Raptor 7463 _to unknown contacts," the copilot announced into his helmet mic. "Please identify-"

A blast of static suddenly screamed over the open channel, so loud both the men clapped hands to the sides of their helmets before slapping the controls to mute.

"What the frak?" the copilot tapped the side of his head, trying to work out the ringing in his ears. "They just threw up a jammer field."

"I'm not liking this," the piloted shouted as he slammed the throttle to its height. "Punch up the scrambling field and pour on the speed!"

The _Raptor_ vaulted forward, the inertia threw them all back into their seats. The clouds were not rushing past the windows, the stairs starting to grow bigger and clearer. In the back Derek ought to keep his seat, clutching to the seat belt over his chest and squeezing his eyes shut with incredible force.

"They're gaining on us," the copilot shouted as the ship rolled to port, then spun to starboard, trying to establish a jagged path across the sky.

"What's going on?" Derek shouted from the back, rocking back at forth against his seat as the ship banked again and he fought to keep his position.

"Shut the frak up!" the pilot yelled back before slamming his fist down onto the afterburners. "Prepare to drop swallows and drones!"

For just a second his copilot paused in his movements to slowly regard his comrade.

"We're not carrying any," the man admitted after a beat.

"What?" he hissed in disbelief.

"We're a shuttle," the copilot shot right back at him, "not a fighter. We not armed with any of those"

"Alright," the man nodded back at him. "Fighters at 100 kilometers... time to hit the deck!"

Slamming the joystick to port, the entire ship rolled to the side, everything taking a violent slant before the they screamed to starboard... but not fast enough as a spray of bullets hit their wing and sent them reeling in the clouds.

Circuits exploded, consoles popped and something banged loudly in the back cabin as everything went blurry for a second.

"Roll to port!" the pilot shouted as he fought for control against the terrible exertion being thrown upon them. "Bring us around."

"Direct hit," his companion howled as he assessed the damage. "Secondary thrusters are offline. Backups not responding."

"Altitude is starting to fall," the controls were starting to become sluggish but still he held tight to his systems. "Bringing up main drive. We won't be able to keep this up for long!"

"They're coming around again!" the copilot called out as the dradis console screamed. "200 kilometers and closing!"

Another shot hit them, sending their ship bucking and rocking, leaving one of their wings afire and several wires sparking in brilliance.

"New contacts," the copilot shouted as the craft gave another rock against the incoming fire. "Incoming from the northwest!"

"Gods," he whispered under his breath as three icons now raced towards the two following them, "they're moving fast!"

Sure enough all three of the icons screamed right passed them, all they could see through the cockpit windows were three big silver blurs raced past them... then two bright explosions in the night sky behind them.

"Frakking Lords of Kobol," someone whispered and neither the copilot or pilot could tell if it had come from them.

"Incoming transmission!" the copilot declared as the crackle of the speakers returned.

"This is Thutmose wing," a voice chirped in over the wireless as one of the silver crafts took point right off their port. "Kicker reporting. Do you require assistance _Raptor 7463?_"

"Thank the Gods you made it," the pilot breathed a sigh of relief. "We should be able to make it ground-side without trouble and-"

"Sir," a hand tapped on his shoulder, turning his head back to where his co-piloted pointed towards he understood as he saw the blood splayed on the ground.

"Gods..." he whispered. "Kicker, we need immediate medical assistance..."

* * *

"It's an old Colonial _Defender_ transponder," Shaw explained as she pointed out the vessel on the gun-camera print out. "Obvious a left over from the last war. Cylons must have taken her, ripped out the automated distress beacon, destroyed the ship and used it to draw Buster into a trap."

"Kid should have been smart enough to authenticate the signal before investigating," Belzen grimly noted.

"We sighted the _Raptor_ drifting a short distance away," Gina continued, still dressed in her flight suit, her sweat hair pasted to her face. "Along with three _Basestars_ keeping their distance in the dust rings. A good guess would be they are trying to lure us in and then spring a trap."

"How far away is the _Raptor_ from us?" Cain asked.

"It's long range, over 40-SU away," the woman pointed out.

"Then spin up the FTL drive, and prepare to jump the ship," Cain commanded. "We are going to turn the trap on these frakkers."

The officer's nodded and began to file out, but Helena's hand lashed out and caught the last before she had a chance to depart.

"Are you okay?" Cain inquired… until she noticed how her lover pulled away with a shiver… a shiver of fear.

"I'm fine... " Gina responded a bit off, but quickly turned to stare up at Helena with tears in her eyes. "What happened to Fisk?"

"What do you mean?" Helena shot her a confused look, laced with tension. "Fisk is in the brig."

"Helena," Gina sighed in annoyance, locking a glare onto the other woman. "I know when you're lying. Your eyes twitch... so tell me now... what did you do to Fisk?"

"We needed to know how much he knew," Helena exhales, almost verging on a moan as she turned away and paced her shadow along the length of the ready room. "He's been only one step away from me... I had to know what he knew and what he could do against us. Lieutenant Alastair is an expert in interrogation… so I ordered him to find out."

"You ordered a possible sociopath to interrogate Fisk…" she couldn't believe what she had just heard, trying to roll the words over in her mouth to really get them across. " You sent a man that already had problems with authority and gave him the chance to make some revenge on his former superior!"

"We needed him…" Helena rounded, trying to shout but her voice starting to fail her. "As much as it's killing me now that I know what he did to you, we had to know what Fisk had given the enemy! This was for the whole crews safety... yourself included!"

"I should count myself lucky then!" Gina shouted, resisting the temptation to punch a wall. "I'm of some use to you!"

"That's not what I meant and you know it!" she roared right back at her, in a voice so loud it nearly shook the walls.

"Well what if it was me?" Gina proposed. "What if I had been caught before I told you. Could that have been me? Tell me Helena, could that have been me!"

"I would never do such a thing!" Helena was aghast at the very idea she would be capable of such a thing. "And you're different than him. We are at war and that man tried to kill everyone abroad this ship… including you! But you decided to turn, you helped us... because you love me!"

"What happens when I step out of line…" Gina scoffed at her. "Am I going to end up like him too because I was also an infiltrator?"

"No never!" Helena clamored right to her, placing her hands on either side of Gina's face to try and have at her look at her directly. "You made the decision to save lives… to save me. I could never hurt you for that."

"Helena…" slowly Gina removed the fingers from the side of the face, turning away from her and leaving Helena with a terrible weight in her stomach. "If I hadn't come forward… that could have been me in that cell. Do you know how close I came to that… and it terrifies me."

"I know..." Helena nodded. "I won't let anything happen to you..."

"But it could," Gina wasn't convinced and Helena knew she was slowly losing this battle. "Maybe not me but what happens if we come across another Six. I look identical to my sisters. sound just like them... was made from the same mold. It would be the same. Would you be able to do the same to someone who's identical to me in every way?"

"I..." she was at a loss of words, the idea horrified her but it would escape her. "I don't... I don't know..."

"I should go," Gina started to turn, heading towards the door. "I have work to do before the battle."

"Gina..." for the first time in their entire relationship Helena's voice was small and impish, "are we alright?"

"No, Helena," Gina exhaled slowly, "we are not..."

She started to turn, to make her departure and the door was half open, when Helena's voice returned again, but this time much stronger, command like.

"Specialist Inviere," Cain's expression was strong and direct. "I need someone who specializes in super-string theory, quantum mechanics and Cylon tactics. I believe you have specialty in all three."

Gina nodded.

"Then report to the bridge, Specialist," Helena gestured towards the door. "And prepare your post for combat... "

* * *

"Ellen?" Saul caste his gaze around the room, trying to find where in his entirely Spartan quarters she could have possibly gotten off too.

"Did you shut the door?" Ellen's giggle nearly made him jump out of his skin as he rounded about to find her gingerly leaning in the bathroom door frame. "Surprise!"

She tossed the bottle at him and with startling speed even after more than eleven-hours on duty he snatched the container out of the air before eyeing the label with a marksmen's glare.

"Ambrosia," he already recognized the smell seething off the bottle and the label only helped to confirm his suspicious. "Where did you get this?"

"I have my ways," she sniggered, obviously having already taken a bit of the bottle's contents for herself. "I thought it might be just the thing for a little celebration."

"We have the President's dinner in barely an hour," Tigh protested but from the unregistered look in Ellen's eyes it was lost on her.

"First things first," she snatched the bottle away from him, tearing out the cork and with two tin glasses already sitting on the table Ellen poured them out an ample amount before handing one to him in an haphazard toast. "There... to starting over."

"To starting over," he tipped his head to her before downing the fiery drink that burned his throat. "I'm technically still on duty."

"Oh," Ellen grinned as she started to pour him another drink. "I think they can do without you for a day."

"It doesn't really work that way," he admonished her before tossing back another drink. "And we have to get ready for the President's dinner."

"I'm sure she won't mind if we're a bit late," Ellen grinned up at him, as she seductively began to play with the buttons of his jacket.

"Ellen we have to go," he tried to push her off, to get her to see reason... but when her hand landed on his belt buckle he had to put his foot down. "_ELLEN_!"

"Fine," she pouted with those full lips he had fallen in love with, "you never let me have any fun."

Gathering herself up she dropped her cup on the table, empty of course, snatched up her coat and made ready to leave, turning back just long enough to cast a look at Saul.

"We'll are you coming?" she asked, before strutting out the door.

Tigh was so dumbfounded, it took him a second to gather himself and dash after her.

Minutes later they were shaking hands and greeting, trying to mingle as they sat down to dinner with the Commander, President and a few others. Inside the Commander's private dinning room it was cramped, the table consumed the majority of the floor and the walls were just far enough to allow a single person to make a circuit around the table at a time.

One head of the table was occupied by Adama, the other by Laura. Between them Admiral Vonaka and Lee held onside, the other was taken over by Saul and Ellen.

"So Mrs. Tigh," Laura commented as they sat down at the table, a few servers depositing a modest meal before them, "you've spent time on the civilian ships, the _Olympic Carrier_ I believe? What is your opinion of the situation abroad?"

"Sure," Ellen waved the question off as if it was no big deal, "there's a lot of whining and complaining, like you would expect. But the people I talked to are mostly hopeful and optimistic."

"That's good to hear," Laura manage a grin against the usual shriek of Ellen's voice.

"But," Ellen was not about to lose her position as the center of the table discussion, "there are a few people who still might wonder if a kindergarten teacher is really the right person to be President but it's just a tiny, tiny minority."

"Wonderful," Laura smiled as she took another bite of her mash potatoes, trying to maintain a smile. "But I haven't been doing it alone."

"Yes, of course," the other woman nodded from the far end of the table. "And everyone is so truly, truly grateful to all of you on _Galactica _and in the military for their sacrifices. You literally are our saviors."

"Oh," Tigh tried to seem humble at her compliment, "we're just doing our jobs, that's all."

"You are so modest," she giggled, patting him on the shoulder. "He's always been that way. ooh! Lee..." she squealed as the man across the table from him suddenly seemed a bit uncomfortable with a bite of food half way to his mouth, "could I trouble you for a little bit more of this lovely ambrosia?"

"Sure," the young man grasped the bottle and poured a small amount into Ellen's glass but an arched eyebrow he dropped a little more liquid into her glass.

"Thank you, dear," she smiled at him a bit too lavishly before taking a long gulp of the drink. "Bill, you must be so proud of your sons. Lee here has grown into such a handsome man. I can only imagine what Zak must look like now. You are the spitting image of your mother and I bet Zak takes just after his daddy."

The room was deathly quiet for just a second, as both Adama and Saul gave her a gaping look at her slip of the tongue.

"Zak passed away a couple of years ago," Apollo was quick to offer up at the long and dark look his father was shooting at the woman.

"I'm sorry," she threw her hands up into the air and offered them all a small smile. "Tragic, the death of a child. There's been so much death, so much pain... sometimes, it's completely overwhelming. But I'm sure he was a beautiful boy."

"The captain of the _Olympic Carrier_ was a little puzzled as to how you got on board his ship," Adama professed.

"Oh, I know," Ellen shrugged it off, not really paying attention as she took another sip from her drink. "I know some thoughtful soul just rescued me from an almost certain death and put me on the last flight out of _Picon_!"

"How lucky for us all," Laura punched a fork into her roast, quickly regretting this entire exchange with the all too drunk Ellen.

"It is, indeed," Saul however missed the look and instead was looking at his wife with devoted eyes.

"The strange thing is," Bill however continued with his previous line of questioning, "no one can recall giving you any medical assistance until about a week ago."

"Oh, I know!" Ellen exclaimed. "It was so scary and crowded. It's a miracle I'm alive!"

"Ahem, uh..." Lee began to snatch up a few plates to escape this catastrophe. "I think I'd better clear some of these, uh, dishes."

"You are so sweet," Ellen laughed, passing over her untouched meal but keeping a grasp on her still cool drink. Her attention however centered onto the other person now alone on the other side of the table from her. "So, Mr. Volaska, now, the question on everyone's mind and I do mean everyone... is when's _Earth_ going to send their fleet to destroy the Cylons?"

The Anchallian, a good head over everyone else and still he was only sitting, looked a little startled to be the new center of Ellen's attention.

"A relief fleet is one the way from the core galaxies of the Hegemony," Vonaka articulated for the woman, "including a sizable contingent from the Solorian Federation but it is not here to destroy the Cylons. We are attempting to find a peaceful diplomatic solution."

"Oh... that word again!" Ellen whistled as if she had been burned. "Diplomacy. You can't talk to machines."

"Ellen," Saul waved her off, "leave the man alone."

"Well, come on," his wife tapped him as if he was a young child she was correcting, "their just metal and circuits we made. I mean come on, its like throwing out an old car. We can do what we see fit with our property."

"Ms. Tigh," Vonaka sighed, annoyed by this whole situation, "the Hegemony is vast and so is the immense amount of life contain within it and far beyond. Carbon-based organic life itself is a majority but we still have huge portions of the universe populated by gaseous, energy, plasma, silicon and hydrogen-based life. What is defined as sentient in incredibly broad."

"But they are not alive," Ellen pressed on, refusing to see his reasoning, "they are just machines."

"Machines are alive," Volaska refused to bow to her wisdom. "As of last month, with the inception of the Malmooth Conglomeration into the empire, the Hegemony now has over 1,022,347 member nations spread over three galaxies. Some are democratic, like the Solorian Federation, others are monarchies like the Crespallions of the Scarlet Junction... some live underwater like the Antedean or the Trilarian... or live in the depths of space like the Leviathan Herds... and some are cybernetic like the Geth, or entirely computerized ones like our ship's AIs. But each and everyone of them has the same rights and liberties that would be afforded to you."

"Oh, I'm sorry," the lady Tigh grinned, liking to get a rise out of him. "Perhaps you don't know that the Cylons look like us, now. Does that affect your concepts?"

"That's merely a rumor," Adama reproved her. "Those were just people driven insane by the attack and acting out. Almost all of them ended up killing themselves ultimately and the matter is dead now."

"But why does humanity have to listen to Hegemony," Ellen leaned over the table, tapping it to make a point. "The Thirteenth tribe are considered part of the Twelve Colonies. If I remember the Articles of Colonization correctly, all the tribes of _Kobol_ are subject to our laws. If we tell the Earthers to destroy the Cylons, they should do as they're told."

"Ellen!" Saul was nearly psychically sick from the tone his wife had just take.

"Well I'm just saying what everyone's thinking," Ellen threw her hands into the air in anguish. "I'm sure if President Adar were here he'd be putting the thirteenth tribe in its rightful place."

"I can assure you," Laura, feeling she had been quiet too long, now piped in. "President Adar would have been more than respectful in the idea that the thirteenth tribe is not and has no interest in being under Colonial rule. Same as the Solorian Federation has no interest in making the Twelve Colonies a member state in it's nation. Both of us are too far apart to exert any real control over the other and I think at the end of the day we can appreciate that."

Before any more debate could be prompted, Adama was quick to bring an end to the evening.

"Dinner was great," he announced, tossing his napkin onto his plat. "Thank you so much for coming. It's been a wonderful evening."

"Thought it would never end," Tigh grumbled under his breath, taking one last swig of his water.

"Oh..." Ellen squealed beside him as she withdrew one of her long legs from under the table. "I seem to have lost one of my shoes."

"I think it's right here," Lee commented, removing a lost shoe from his lap with a look of disgust and mild annoyance.

"Thank you, Lee," Ellen giggled as she snatched the sandal back, though the red flash on Lee's face made her laugh harder.

"You look very, very happy," Bill commented to his old friend, trying to distract him from the entire display of lewdness beside him.

"That's because I am very, very happy," Saul grinned, though he failed to notice the going on's beside him or the terrible glare on Adama's face.

"Bill, lovely evening," Ellen nearly stumbled from her seat, the drink in her stomach starting to affect her finally as she finally had to stand on her own two feet.

"I've got her," Saul laughed as she started to drag her towards the now opened hatch and back towards their quarters.

"Be careful," Bill called after them.

"When did Bill become such a stick in the mud?" that little comment may have come out as a whisper to Ellen but she practically yelled it as she stumbled out the door with Saul holding her hips.

"The scuttlebutt was that she slept with more than half the fleet while Saul was in space," Adama groused the moment the door slammed shut behind the pair.

"Then why the hell did he stay married to her?" Laura shot him a look as she joined him.

"It's obvious," Adama commented, "he loves her deeply."

"Blindly," Volaska declared in earnest. "Polygamy may be common among most of the member worlds of the Hegemony but she just seems to do it because she can, not for love or procreation but the thrill of it."

"Ellen used to encourage the worst instincts in this guy," Adama nodded. "Bring out the self-destructive streak in him."

"Used to?" Laura shot him a look.

Bill was about to protest, to think of something for Ellen's defense when suddenly Billy breezed into the dinning room, a sense of urgency on his features.

"Madam President," he leaned over and quickly whispered something indiscernible for them to hear.

"Alright," she nodded before turning back to the remaining pair. "If you'll excuse me gentlemen, I have something pressing to attend to."

Both offer a quick bow and she departed, making her way out the hatch with the young attendant in tow. The moment the hatch sealed behind them she was turning around on her companion.

"So how bad is it?" she asked immediately...

* * *

"All flight deck personnel," Belzen's voice echoed in the hallways as personnel ran to their posts, "report to action stations. All personnel to action stations."

"All right, come o n, let's go, let's go!" Marcia 'Showboat' Case yelled as she ushered her _Viper_ pilots into their bird. "We gotta scrambled people. Mommy's not here to kiss your sorry asses!"

Fighters were pulled into their tubes, the landing gears grinding over the deck-plating and locked into the mag-launchers.

At almost ten-meters long and three-meters high, the _Viper_ MK-VII was the top of the line fighter design for the Colonies. While keeping with some of the classic layouts from the Mk-II's that fought during the last Cylon war, they were far more battle capable than their predecessors. Three

"Flight-deck reports _Vipers_ are loaded," Belzen confirmed from his side of the command room. "All gunners are locked in and engine room says FTL is spun up."

"Moment we're in they'll start launching _Raiders_," Gina supplied from the other end of the room. "If we catch them off par, they won't have time to get anything in the air."

"I've loaded the targeting profiles into the warheads," Kendra joined. "In theory we'll be able to launch them without targeting and they should be take their kills without orders."

"Lock down all stations, seal blast doors. Jump us, Mr. Hoshi," Admiral Cain announced.

"Aye, sir," the Lieutenant nodded. "Drive is spooled up now."

The room seemed to elongate and shrink as the Battlestar folded in on itself.

FTL was the standard acronym for faster-than-light, the hallmark that made almost any civilization graduate from the primitive space age to the interstellar era. Situated at the heart of _Pegasus_, two FTL drive coils sat between a pair massive shafts, spinning and rotating as thousands of joules of energy poured in them.

No one knew who first invented faster-than-light drive, it was a holdover from the Colonials exodus from _Kobol_ thousands of years ago and its origins had been lost in the pages of history and the rumor of legend. It's use had fallen out during the early years of the Twelve Colonies but slowly as humanity rediscovered the technology from salvaged bits of their once great civilization, the engine system had pushed their worlds from obscure long-distances to right on each other's door step.

It was a highly complicated process that would require volumes of text books just to explain its most basic functions but at full power she was capable of folding the fabric of space and time around itself before 'trading' it with another piece of space of the same size. This swap of two point in space required an obnoxious amount of power and calculations yet it was so critical to a _Battlestar's_ operations that most of her class were designed around the FTL, not the other way around.

A moment later they transitioned back into normal space...

* * *

"Almost in position," Tom mumbled as he watched the pirate ship drifting beyond their scopes.

"Reactor functioning at minimal levels," Meier commented as he watched his controls closely. "Our signals are going strong."

"_Secondary pings are active_," Sim'Lohan declared as her systems registered nominal.

"They are almost there..." he watched his readouts as closely as possible, waiting for just the right... "_NOW!_"

Four sets of hands flew over their respective controls, clicking and typing away with lightning speed just as they had planned... just finishing in unison as the multi-directional laser emitters sprinkled at eight different points through the north-eastern side of the belt flared to life.

Each one was like a tiny sun, burning with powerful energy hat flexed itself outward... and slicing the four massive asteroids crossed between them and sending a terrible storm of debris outward in all directions... though the majority was directed towards the pirate base

The reaction was immediate, the fighter noticed that each of the rocks had centered in on a collision course with their base, a terrible projectile that even by itself could do terrible damage... in the process of moving to intercept it dumbed the escape pod in order to gain the extra speed.

"Thank Gods we had those left over from the mining mission," Zarek thanked his respective Lords of Kobol before kicking up the engines. "Bring reactor power up to full!"

The _Astral Queen _vaulted into action, throwing itself forward and towards its target.

"Sim'Lohan, get ready," he shouted aft ward as the Quarian captain manned the magnetic grapple.

"Just try to give me a clear shot!" she called out as she stared intently at the glowing computer screen.

Quickly the pod began to grow in size, a small egg-shaped design drifting end over end at its position abandoned in the void of space. It made lining up the shot all the harder...

Two tri-clawed launched out, racing to find a purchase in the cold vastness before them.

"_Got 'em_!" she shouted a second later, "_grappling magnet in place, pulling them in now_."

"Put Jusi'Lada on the line," Tom yelled the escape pod began to twisting towards them with staggering speed, so fast he was afraid they'd pancake the people inside.

"_They're alive_," Jusi'lada shouted over the comms from below deck. "_I'm reading oxygen atmosphere and a rising carbon-dioxide level. Someone's breathing in there_."

"Good," Tom nodded as he watched the approach craft, "because the enemy fighter is coming about and fast!"

"_We're reeling them in as fast we can_," Sim'Lohan announced as the pod was nearly close enough to touch now. "_Moment they're on the hull start off loading them and get them abroad_!"

"Fighter is closing," James reported as the dradis stations began to bleat out warnings. "Sixty-seconds to attack range."

"Jusi'Lada," Tom shouted into the comms, "is the life boat abroad yet?"

"_One more... second_..." the young Quarian counted down, as the pod got closer and closer, "_life boat secure! Establishing seal now!_"

"Full reverse!" Tom roared the moment it was confirm. "Rotate our starboard hull to the fighter. It's empty and can take the hits."

"Engines at full," Sim'Lohan nodded as the _Astral Queen _rolled onto its side and thrust herself away under full burn.

Down below Jusi'Lada waited for the atmospheric links to establish, watching at the four warning lights slowly blinked out into green... confirming it was safe to open the pod.

The door opened and even with her mask on, Jusi'Lada's olfactory sensors were going into the warning levels and it only took her a second to realize that these children had been locked into a small tin can without any bathroom to use. It sickened and outraged her, more so as a dozen terrified eyes suddenly we're staring up at her.

Throwing herself forward, she hit the floor of the lifeboat with a scream of shouts from the scare kids around her.

"Move!" she quickly stared to usher the children up and too safety, hoping that her suit would keep them thinking she was merely a rescue worker. "Quickly, younglings! We have to move quick!"

They hesitated for just a second, before all piling out, from young teens to toddlers, they were ushered up and to safety. Seventeen in all, Jusi'Lada grabbed the last, a small boy, just to make sure they all made it out.

"We're clear," she announced, slapping a hand down on the door seal and sealing the airlock into place. "Get us out of here!"

"Dropping the pod," Meier's announced as they heard the bang and groan of the escape boat being tossed aside and back into the void.

"_Negative lift, sir,_" Sim'Lohan shouted as the ship cried and grumbled around them, "_we're still too heavy in the gravity field_."

"Reactor is approaching collapse," James' roared as the entire craft threatened to fall apart around them. "We need to either dump the escape pod or lose complete containment."

"Fighter is entering weapons range is ten-seconds," Tom shouted... a second later as the entire ship rocked and vaulted under fire.

"Direct hits!" Meier shouted as the entire ship dipped to the side and a terrible boom sounded off in the distance like thunder. "Hull breach, deck twelve, frame seven!"

"Damage?" Zarek shot a glance back even as he fought to stabilize the craft.

"_Frame was closed off and sealed_," Sim'Lohan noted as she held tight to her station. "_Minimal but now we have a third of the starboard hull opened to internal structuring._"

"Bring around the bow," Tom ordered as he fought against his controls, which were now protesting his every movement. "It has more shielding."

"_Isn't this bridge on the bow_?" Sim'Lohan shot him a look.

"You have a point?" he launched right back at her.

"_Bring around the bow_," the Quarian nodded after a beat, "_thirty six degrees to port. Fighter is coming around again_."

"Get ready for it!" Tom shouted, watching now as the view swiveled to bring the angry little fighter craft that had caused this whole mess to come into view.

It had them in its sights and with a clear shot, nothing to block its path and its target with little armor and no weapons, the kill shot was assured.

Well, assured until the plasma beam slice the craft in two just before the pilot could hit the fire control button.

"What the frak!" Meier's shouted, watching as the bisected craft tumbled away before exploding from a breached reactor core... and not trying to think about how many of the Lords of Kobol he promised a number of things if they just spared him.

"_New contact on dradis_!" Sim'Lohan announced as she fought to get a good look at the dradis station. "_Kee'lah, we didn't even detected her until the she armed weapons_!"

"Who the frak is it!" Tom howled, wanting an answer this instant before their luck ran out.

"_This is the Space Guard destroyer HSS Dynamic Year to Astral Queen_," a voice crackled over the speakers. "_Please respond_."

Slowly the imposing, manta-ray shaped body of the Space Guard _Anole_-class destroyer rocketed into their view, the ship already throwing itself between them and the pirate base to prevent any other direct hits.

"This is Captain Zarek of the _Astral Queen_," Tom grabbed the wireless mic and slapped it right in front of his mouth. "We hear you loud and clear."

"_Good to hear you, Captain_," Captain Lawbaaut announced over the comms from the safety of his own vessel. "_Finish off your evacuation, we'll deal with the pirates."_

The warship was already angling towards the not too distant base and from this distance Tom could make out the angry hive of activity the place was becoming.

"Alright, you heard the Captain," Tom began to bring the ship around as he tapped the nearest comm port. "Jusi'Lada, secure the kids and get back up here."

Even as he worked he noticed it was a good thirty-seconds there was no response from the young woman.

_"_Jusi'Lada respond," he hit the comms again and waited a good few seconds without any reply.

"_Jusi'Lada nar Jenleya," _it was now Sim'Lohan by his side, even more concerned,_ "please respond now!"_

No answer came for a good minute before there was a russel of movement and a tiny voice came in over the speaker.

_"Hello?" _a distinctly female, child-like voice talked a little too loudly through the device.

"Who is this?" Tom asked near breathless.

"_My names Tamaru_," the girl was quiet but she was still polite, waiting for them to say their own names and only responding when she was sure it was her turn to talk again. "_Are you trying to talk to the lady with the purple mask_?"

"_Yes_," Sim'Lohan jumped on that sentence. "_Her name is Jusi'Lada. Where is she_?"

"The nice lady fell over when the ship went boom," the little girl imitated the sound of the explosions like you would hear in a cartoon just to add effect. "She's asleep."

"Where are you Tamaru?" Tom asked, as evenly but as rushed as he could.

"_I don't know_," the little girl said, though from the sniffles and wails in the background she wasn't alone.

"They were at airlock seven," Tom surmised, trying to retrace his memorized schematics of the ship. "Aft sections probably, if Jusi'Lada was running it'd take her a while to get off deck three."

"I'm heading down now!" James was already out of his seat and running without an order needing to be given.

"_Excuse me_," Tamaru said again through the speaker, "can_ you hurry. The nice lady's mask is cracked and all her pretty pink smoke is falling out._.."

* * *

"All ships please stand by," Dualla nearly shouted into the comms as she fought to hold her position in the comm channels. "All docking bays are full."

She snapped the system closed before another one of the captains could find a new curse word to call her and after her day, that bucket was becoming very empty, very fast.

"How bad is it?" Felix asked, leaning on the railing behind her as if to keep out of Dualla's way.

"Take bad and add catastrophic," Anastasia hissed, nearly ready to kick her station. "Docking section '_A_' on ring one, sections '_G_' and '_H_' on ring two and sections '_B_' and '_C_' on ring two are closed down. Only bay still running is docking section 'D' on ring three, but that section was meant for mining materials and drop offs... and cause the Hegemony mostly has machines running the operations down there."

"Any word yet from the President?" he inquired, worried about the possible response.

"Repair work in section '_D_', ring one may have knocked out our communications relay for about two hours," she smirked at him for a second. "Messages are only being sent through two internal comms on docked _Raptors_ in ring three... which according to a pilot that owes me a favor or ten... is very iffy."

"Great work, Dee," Felix nearly had to hide his grin but considering his day, he quickly abandoned that fantasy to enjoy smiling for just a few seconds before the world came falling down around him again.

"The Lieutenant wanted to see you too," Dualla added, quickly regretting it as the smile on Gaeta's face fell like a ton of bricks. "He was suppose to be having a meeting with Captain Devaux... but I think he's ready to space her over actually talking."

"On my way," Gaeta was already heading for a lift, dreading what he was going to encounter when he got there. "Keep me posted in the meantime."

The doors were shut before she could give a response and the maglev car dropped a dozen levels in a few seconds as he wasted those instances enjoying the cold metal walls against his back.

Two-minutes and one quiet lift ride later, he was strolling into the conference room to witness Moneti nearly ready to vault over the table and wrap his hands around Devaux's neck... though the good Captain wasn't too far behind.

"When are you going to start being reasonable for once?" Alhex spat like a viper ready to strike. "We are willing to meet some of your demands but we can cover them all."

"When you stop being unreasonable," Symone fired right back at him, "and realize that without even half of these demands I can't send my people back to work."

"You have understand that the Hegemony is not a bottomless pool of resources!" Alhex slammed his fist onto the table and for a moment the heavy metal table shook. "We are stretched thin as it is! Resources are being sacrificed from our frontier colonies to feed yours!"

"And from what I seen on just your '_long-range_' fleets," Symone howled back at him, "your settlements are probably better stocked then _Caprica_ was before the attack. Mine on the other hand have almost no active industries, destroyed economic infrastructure and little prospects for the future. The two most profitable jobs in the Colonies right now are dockworker or grave digger... which do you think my boys are going to hold on to."

The tone was final and absolutely without emotion as the woman shot daggers at the Lieutenant with just her eyes.

"This is obviously a waste of time since you're not willing to listen to anything I have to offer," Moneti voice was dark, not the kind of dark Felix liked to hear.

"Lieutenant! Captain!" he interceded himself into the fight, hoping to bring their hatred off each other long enough for logic to take hold. "Isn't there is some kind of accommodation we can make to end this decently. I've been going over some of the manifests and-"

"Lieutenant," Alhex cut him off before he could offer anything, "I'm sorry but there's nothing left. After the attack on _Gehenna_ the Hegemony had to divert a portion of your relief fleet to help with the situation and until the incident is resolved we can't start giving hand outs left and right."

"Dammit!" it was Symone's turn to slam her fist on the table. "Don't give me that frakking load. Half those freighters we unload are capable of intra-atmosphere travel and they're stocked to the breaking point. Either tell them to land on the ground or hand over some of that food they're carrying."

"We can hash that out," Alhex held his ground, "but revising the schedule now would mean depriving refugee camps on eight different Colonies."

"If you can't fix the problem right now," Symone's voice was unrelenting, "then I can't open the docks right now."

"If you don't I'll have to do one of two things," Moneti threatened, now furious with this entire discussion, "order soldiers in to send the workers back or to send the dockworkers and their families back ground-side to make room for the new one's we'll have to call in."

"You can't do that!" Symone protested as if someone had just stabbed her in the heart. "Most of these people volunteered for these jobs because their children need medical attention or special care. If you throw them back to _Caprica_ then all they'll do is rot in some refugee camp... before they riot! And that's after they find out your bringing in scabs."

"Then you have until the end of the day to get those people back on the job..." and without pause Alhex turned on his heels and marched from the room.

Symone wasn't too far behind, as she let loose an anguish wail and stomped off after him.

All Felix could do was stare after the both of them and wonder about the horrible situation he had just witnessed... before racing out after them to try and fix this before it cost a lot of innocent people their lives...

* * *

He was pacing, up and down the length of the room like a cornered tiger, trying to find an exit and becoming increasingly agitated that he could find nothing of the sort.

So preoccupied in his own little world he never noticed her standing in the doorway of the hospital room, not staring at him with a sense of longing.

"Gaius!" she swept in like she was on a breezing wind and snatched him into arm. "Oh God, I'm so relieved you're alright..."

She however trailed off as she noticed the body was rigid in her grasp, unmoving, nearly trembling.

_I nearly killed him_, she suddenly remembered and in sickened depression, _why would he still love me after I nearly killed him and every other human in this solar system._

"Who are you," he spoke at her like a child meeting a stranger and for a second her whole world stopped.

"Gaius?" she finally pulled back and looked at him, suddenly noticing the distant and furrowed look he was giving her. "Gaius what's wrong?"

Suddenly he pushed her away, his face contorting in anger as again he resumed his angry stomp along the perimeter of the wall.

"What do you people want from me?" he hissed, wringing his hands over and over again and seeming to carry the nervous twitch that for so long she had considered cute.

"Gaius," she whispered, trying to get his attention. "It's me, Caprica... Gaius are you alright?"

"I have a major presentation due in a half hour at the Ministry of Science," he threw his hands up in the air, outraged that he was being delayed in such a way. "I need to go. Why won't the hotel steward let me leave."

She was confused, in a way she never thought possible

What the frak was wrong with him, he was prowling the floor like he was ready to snap but how the hell did he think he was in a hotel. Shouldn't the white walls, adjustable bed and see of white coat wearing doctors have tipped him off?

"Gaius," she suddenly tried to hold him still, placing both his arms on his shoulders and trying to get him to look at her directly for once, "You're not at a hotel. You're at the hospital... in Archer City... Gaius do you know where you are?"

Her heart fell when his eyes got distant again and then he snapped back to his disconcerted expression.

"It's the biggest meeting of my life!" Gaius shouted, pushing her away. "I don't have time for this. I am presenting my greatest invention to Secretary Mosti. The Command Navigation Program! It will revolutionize the entire Colonial military."

She looked at him like he was mad and for a second she pretty sure he was.

The presentation for the Command Navigation Program, CNP, was over two-years ago... the day after she had been assigned to him by High Command.

"Caprica," she turned to find Amanda standing in the doorway, a young, haggard looking doctor behind her. "I think I have someone has something to say to you."

"Your sister says are Mister Baltar's family?" the man asked, stepping forward with a chart clutched to his chest.

Obviously Amanda must have hidden their relation by saying they were twin sisters, not too far from the truth.

"His father died a month... before the attack," Six shrugged, not knowing why she had remembered that particular piece of information. "I'm all he has left."

"Alright," the man nodded, before casting a glance at the patient behind her. "Well as you can see he is not in the best state of mind right now."

"What's wrong with him?" she pressed, wanting to know what had happened to bring Gaius to this point.

"He suffered a massive cerebral hemorrhage," he announced, trying to get it all out in one breath, "brought on by a serious head concussion. Its my understanding he received it when the Hammerville Spaceport took a direct hit during the attack."

A stab of pain shot through her heart, an attack she had been present at and died... almost. She had an escape route that her lover did not and know he was left with those consequences.

"Is there a way to treat it?" Amanda asked in concern.

"Right now we just have to wait," the doctor reported, a sick look on his face. "His brain took some immense damage and we don't honestly know if he'll recover. Right now he has retrograde amnesia and short-term memory impairment."

"He keeps talking about a major presentation that is over two-years past," Six mumbled, trying not to feel hurt the man was trapped in a time before he knew her.

"He has for several days now," he responded. "From what we know his brain is functioning but until the damage is repaired he isn't able to hold any memories beyond the most basic, breath, eat when hungry, using the bathroom. Anything beyond that is lost after a few seconds-"

"Are you the doctor?" all heads turned towards the patient but his eyes were centered on one person and it was not the medical profession.

"No," Six answered, her throat catching in her throat. "I'm not your doctor."

"What's your name?" he asked, again his voice like a child's.

"It's me, Gaius," she kept her voice even though she was breaking on the inside. "Caprica."

"Alright," he nodded but it seemed more to be polite, he really didn't recognize her.

"I used to be a doctor," he said after a beat, "I think."

"You are a doctor," she approached him, slowly not to startle him, before resting her hand on his cheek. "You're are the most brilliant man in all the Colonies."

"Have to make it right," he said it without pause but without looking at her.

"What?" the question went around the entire room.

But already he was gone again, brow scrunched up and a annoyed look on his face.

"Can you people move faster," he hissed. "I have a very important meeting...

* * *

"Dradis signal's clean," Hoshi called out the moment they arrived. "Jump put us clear of any interference and outside their dradis range."

"Admiral, three Cylon _Baseships_ present and in weapons range," Jurgen verified as the dradis screens started to light up. "I also show a _Raptor_. Transponder codes match. It's ours."

"Mr. Belzen," Helena turned to the man, "launch nukes!"

"Yes, ma'am!" the officer confirmed.

A standard _Battlestar_ generally carried ten or twenty nuclear devices of vary megatons. _Pegasus_ unfortunately had sacrificed half her payload while in dock back at the Colonies, the stern launchers were being traded out and the missiles were being stored at the shipyard's armory.

With such a sudden departure the chance to reacquisition the ordinance back never arrived.

The bay doors of the bow cycled open, coolant pouring forth as four projectiles were loaded into place. Each one took its target, internal processors ignited and the cooling fog around each unit disappeared as white hot fire annihilated it from existence.

Each one took its targets, two racing forward and striking the forward most _Basestar_. Inattentive of _Pegasus_' arrival, she was struck in her central axis, the heavy armor was at its weakest and dissolved under the extreme force the sudden nuclear wildfire. Several hundred Cylons, Centurions and _Raiders_ registered a blinding luminescence and then the blasting howl of space tearing the atmosphere from crippling hull breach.

The second duplet roared into the next unsuspecting _Basestar_, only the bright birth of a miniature sun echoed in the dusty void to signal it's death.

Nothing for the last one, _Pegasus_ had calculated from their jump in point that by the time a missile arrived to impact the final _Baseship_ would have reacted and the entire action would have been the waste of their last two nukes.

The resulting confusion however did give them enough time to hurl the _Vipers_ from their launch tubes before the _Raiders_ raced to join them.

"All right, Showboat," Noel 'Nacho' Allison screamed over the wireless from his cockpit, "you take red squadron. Hit 'em o n the right. Catbird, you take green. Hit 'em o n the left. The rest of you, follow me. We're going straight up the gut... "

* * *

"Dammit Symone," Felix hissed as he waved his hands around his head in frustration, "don't be a moron. Alhex is willing to work with you but he can't give you every damn thing on a silver platter!"

"He's an outsider, Lieutenant," Devaux frothed right back at him. "The only reason he was put in charge is because the Space Guard is a thousand times stronger than our military and the President is hoping those big guns would get us to back down."

"The Space Guard only wants to help," he shook his head, trying in some way to make this woman see reason, "but it's a two way street. They're willing to give you what your workers need but you can't have it all. Sacrifices are being made on both sides."

"It's too late for that," Symone wasn't convinced and Felix could feel his stomach dropping for what he knew was coming next. "Our workers are tired and fed up, this accident was the final straw. It's time to stand up for ourselves or be steamrolled again."

"You know what could happen if the President have to order in the marines!" Felix dissented, trying to any way possible to get through to her. "They'll be blood and a lot of those kids are going to be back planet-side as orphans."

"Is that a threat?" Symone's eyes narrowed at him and for an instance she looked like she could melt him on the spot with that glare.

"Its a fact," he stated right at her, fed up with all this frakking bullshit he was standing his ground finally and for what he thought was a good cause. "You remember what happened when President Adar had to send in the marines on _Aerilon_. Do you want to really end up as a bunch of bodies splattered on the deck for some news reporter to stand over?"

"If it shows the people of these Colonies what is really going on," Symone hatred churned visibly on her features. "then tell Roslin we're waiting for her!"

But for a second her eyes lost their terribly fury and she looked at him, actually looked at him and not through him.

"For what it's worth," she said after the moment of silence, "I'm sorry this has to happen to you."

Turning on her heels, the bottom of her boots scrapping on the deck, she marched off before he could get another word in, disappearing quickly down the hall and right around the corner.

Indignation swelled in his stomach, umbrage left a bile taste in his mouth and outright worry that he may have made the situation worse before he made it better left terrible guilt in his eyes.

Guilt that was probably going to make his next move all the worse...

* * *

The _Skindiver _fighter screamed through open space, rolling and banking as it swung long over the cresting horizon of gas giant _Zeus_, one of the four mighty jovian worlds that dominated Cyrannus' outer orbits.

"This is Delta Two-Nine-Six, Kicker, to Fleet Command," Blair's voice sounded off as he brought his fighter up out of skimming the lower atmosphere and towards the unseen target it was looking for. "I am approaching the last known coordinates of Secretary Nordstroms' ship.

"_You should be right on top of her Kicker_," Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss answered from the far side of the solar system abroad the _Victory_. "_Wood Crest was a standard Colonial Kimba Huta-type transport, compliment two-hundred. Reports from Nuous Station say they're over three hours overdue on a short diplomatic mission from Canceron to Leonis._"

A beeping on his console declared something was now catching his sensors attention, but for a long moment he could see nothing with his eyes. Then he caught it... a glint from a drifting piece of metal that couldn't be any longer than his forearm.

"I have a contact," Kicker sighed, "to small to be the Wood Crest... hang on I have more small contacts dispersing outward in all directions."

"_Is it a meteor shower?_" Winter Springs for Summer Light of Equatorial Bliss asked.

"No..." Blair held his breath for a second until he knew for sure he was looking at what he fear most, "its debris. I think its what left of the _Wood Crest_."

"What the hell could have happened..."

* * *

He was down the nearest set of stairs, through a dozen corridors and onto the monorail that rain the entire circumference of the entire internal diameter of ring one, watching as the sections whizzed past before he was where he wanted to be.

Section '_B'_ was alive with throbbing with life even if it was already a few hours passed when most of the Colonials were calling it a night. Obviously the hours of the day were different to the Hegemony, the walks of the open air section were packed with dozens of people and a few Colonial dressed humans, shopping, dining, going about their business in the dark light but active structure.

Felix found him right where he was last time, yet on this occasion Alhex was poking at something that looked like the cross between a lamb and a squid speckled in emerald green and hot pink.

"You can't just throw those people out!" he wheezed through his teeth, trying to restrain his outrage and appear more diplomatic, though he was failing horribly.

"They're not working but they still expect room, board and food," the Lieutenant looked at him, even as he popped a steam piece of his meal into his mouth and chewed. "They are a drain on already scarce resources we can't spare and there are dozen's planet-side ready to take their spots."

"But all they want is a home," he complained, pacing around the knee-high table, "their children taken care of and safety."

"Which are giving them for an honest day's work," Alhex twisted a length of tentacle onto his fork but made no attempt to take a bite. "They can't expect to have something for free because it's a game of survival right now and those that do nothing deserve to be left behind."

"Listen to yourself," Felix tried to keep his voice even but already he could hear his tone cracking. "You are going to toss fifteen-hundred dock workers and their four-thousand dependents back onto that radiation infected ground below and expect them to go quietly."

"Colonel Tigh is coming with one-hundred ten armed marines," he supplied, not meeting Felix's stare but determination still heavy in his voice. "They'll be here in first thing in the morning and this problem will be gone before tomorrow afternoon."

"So you are going through with it?" he was still a bit surprised at the disbelief in his words, believing it had long since escaped him.

"I'm sorry, Felix," Alhex shrugged, slathering the tentacle in the blue paste on the side of his plate before sliding it into his mouth like a strand of spaghetti. "I know you didn't want this nevertheless we can't sacrifice the needs of the few over the needs of the many."

"But you said the Hegemony doesn't believe in conscription!" Felix kicked the table and immediately regretted it as the furniture was bolted to the ground and obviously not made from a soft wood.

He was clutching his foot and swearing at the stinging sensation that raced through his body.

"Yes," Alhex was hiding the hints of a smirk at Felix's outburst and resulting ironic injury, "however these people are not citizens of the Hegemony and I won't force our rule on another people. Besides these aren't conscripts, they volunteered as citizens of the Twelve Colonies and if they won't volunteer anymore, other people are more than willing to do the work."

Felix paced the length of the one side of the table at least three times, ignoring the terrible stinging in his left foot and trying to rack his mind for any possible information.

Then it hit him.

"You said since these people are not citizens," Felix talked slow, making sure he used all the right words, "you won't impose the conscription rule on them and the indentured service rule is only applicable to Hegemony citizens."

An idea struck him and for just a second a smirk started to spread on Felix's lips.

"Maybe there could be a way around that?" he grinned. "Care to help?"

"Fine," Alhex conceded. "What do you have in mind?"

"I just have to find something first," he was off before Alhex could ask what and it took a short jog to catch up.

Three-minutes later they were in Felix's modest quarters, more a converted closet with a cot and a set of chairs... all three incredibly uncomfortable to the point where the metal floor was more pleasing to sit your behind on.

Piles of papers lay everywhere and Gaeta quickly began to push his ways through them all, trying to find something as Alhex took a seat across from him.

It was over an hour before he finally huffed in failure.

"Absolutely nothing," Felix tossed the papers down on the desk, pinching his nose and trying not to notice the burn in his eyes. "I've consulted every legal book I can think of, from the Articles of Colonization to all sixty amendments that follow it to every case the Inter-Colonial Court has ever heard. Absolutely, frakking nothing!"

"No luck on my side either," Alhex nodded as he too tossed a few of his files down on the desk. "Your laws are very cut and dry, not nearly as fluid as the Hegemony's. I'm surprised you're even still awake. When was the last time you slept."

"What time is it?" he shot a look at Alhex.

"Almost oh-five-hundred hours in the morning based on your orbital time keeping chronometers," the man responded in kind.

"Gods," Felix whistled and quickly felt his energy sapped. "I haven't sleep in almost two days. Why are you awake?"

"Like I said before," Alhex shrugged. "I require very little sleep. Two to four hours is normal for me."

"All those fancy cybernetic implants keep you strung up like a cat on cat nip," joked Felix, before tapping his forehead. "Almost wish the one your doctor jammed into my brain did as much."

Have you not activated your cortical optical interface?"

"My cortical what?" the words seemed totally alien to Felix.

"And I see like any good contractor, Doctor Xianextnucatoital never finished the work he started," Moneti laughed though certainly not disinterested. "You really think people have computers stuck into their brains because it is fun. Cortical implants are the basic model, used for communications, access the computer files, even turning on lights. Most kid's usually have them installed before they're a cycle old."

"I'm sure most newborns love to have major brain surgery," Felix grimaced.

"Sarcasm?" an evil smile quirked on Alhex's face. "I think I'm rubbing off on you. One thing that certainly would make your work easier would be access to your cortical node. You could absorb all this information in a matter of minutes instead of hours of studying."

"And how do you suggest I do that?" the Colonial asked.

Taking a seat across from Felix, Alhex stared at him with trained eyes, trying to formulate an idea of how best to resolve this specific situation.

"Concentrate," Moneti instructed him. "The interface is activated by conscious thought. If you think on it, it powers up."

For a long while Gaeta just stared at Alhex, trying intently to activate the interface. It was stupid and weird. How was he supposed to turn on a computer lodged into the frontal lobe of his brain just by thinking about it? Wouldn't it be easier to put a big honking '_ON_' button on his forehead?

After a heated trial he was about to give up when he noticed something.

A blinking icon flashed in the corner of his vision, a tiny red light that drifted in the crook of his eye. He hadn't noticed it before but maybe, just maybe if he concentrated.

Like lighting a firework the interface activated and suddenly Felix found his vision crowded out as three screens interposed themselves over the scenery around him.

The first was obviously his heart rate, the thin green line jumping up and down in a repeating manner. After that a green bar dominated the bottom of the interface, bouncing up and down as the words '_Wi-Fi_' connection underneath.

As the remaining displays appeared Gaeta had to swallow back his lunch as the overpowering surge rocked his senses.

"Amazing!" though when the young Colonial talked it was surprised by how strained his voice was, or the taste of bile that pierced his mouth.

"Click file and scroll down to '_search for local public router_'," Alhex clarified.

"Link is established," Felix repeated the message that was now blinking across his vision.

"Prefect," the Guard officer continued, "you've access the local serve the Hegemony installed in their section. It's more then powerful enough to reach all the way over here. Now any information we have compiled on the Colonies should be easy to access. Just think about a '_search_' and the proper program will activate."

"I think I got it," scanning the bottom field of his view, Felix found the icon and with nothing more then a head nod the menu opened and he quickly sighted the name he wanted. "But I seriously doubt an alien database is going to help me gather information on a Colonial problem."

"Well all digital information that survived the Cylon attack was relatively easy to copy into our databases," the young disregarded. "It took barely two-hours to access, copy and download the every public and library database on _Caprica_."

"Two-hours!" Felix was agape at the idea. "That could have been thousands, maybe millions of computers!"

"Anything that was known to the general populous was taken as to better help our diplomats," the young man explained. "We of course did not hack into any classified or military databases."

"This is going to be a huge time saver," he sighed in relief, finally seeing a possible light at the end of the tunnel. "So can I download almost anything?"

"Just run a cross reference search between the Colonial database," Alhex explained, "sub-section for law and then check it against the Interstellar Wikipedia Database to find some precedence to work from."

For a moment Felix closed his eyes and let his mind do as he needed, running an internal tutorial program to learn the basis of the system before finally diving.

Two-minutes later he opened his eyes and huffed a breath as if he had just run a mile.

"Two-thousand entries..." he sighed, rubbing at his worn eyes. "And I think I may have exactly what I need... but if only I had a little more time..."

"What are you implying, Lieutenant?" Alhex narrowed his eyes at him.

"There's something I need to check on first," he quickly rose, now all of sudden too antsy to sit still now that he had a possible solution to this whole problem. "How would you feel about an unauthorized trip to _Galactica_?"

"Since communications are down and the situation here is about to go supernova," Alhex looked at him like he was nuts, "do you think Commander Adama would appreciate you dropping in?"

"The Commander can't know we were there," Felix nodded. "If you can get me in unnoticed?"

"I spent my first few cycles in the Department of Intelligence Operations. I always love a good infiltration..."

* * *

"Not how I planned our first mission back into space," Lawbaaut grinned as he watched the battle unfold.

"Three contacts are breaking from out engagement zone," Lieutenant David announced as the SIT redeployed for the new enemy icons. "Four more are moving to attack distance, additional activity from the base suggests they are preparing to launch more ships."

Three large ships, obviously cargo haulers carrying the pirates stolen cache, were racing away and quickly disappeared into the belt, as the four smaller, more readily armed counterparts, threw themselves towards the approaching interloper who was ruining their spoils.

"Load a full salvo of kinetic offensive missiles and prime for launch," Captain Lawbaaut ordered as he watched the incoming crafts closely. "Keep our main prow between them and the _Astral Queen_. Ensign Gunderson, patch me onto a wide band transmission, I want them to hear this."

"You are online, sir," the young man announced, obvious feeling a little out of place as the replacement for the _Dynamic's_ long-time communication officer.

"_This is the Hegemony Space Guard ship HSS Dynamic Year to unlicensed Colonial ships_," the Captain's voice boomed across the void to whoever was listening. "_You have attacked an unarmed civilian transport within the space of the joint Hegemony-Colonial mining zone of Gamoray. Stand down immediately and we will see that you receive a fair trial. If you do not we are authorized to use deadly force._"

"No immediate response," Gunderson declared.

"_I wouldn't say that_," Harrison announced as a red alarm flared on the SIT above the AI's pixelated head. "_I am detecting the arming of three thermonuclear warheads and the activation of six missile batteries on the moon's surface. I believe they chose an offensive response_."

"Then so we do the same," Lawbaaut said before he began to fire off a rapid series of orders. "Target incoming ships, lock plasma cannon on the largest vessel and fire on my mark."

"Locked and holding," Commander Fabian nodded as the main cannon blinked green.

"Fire!"

A concentrated bolt of chaotic energy vaulted forth and speared the nearest of the approaching crafts. With little armor, little defenses, the vessel crumpled under the impact, super-heated atmosphere and blasted debris disappeared out into the spinning black.

"Craft confirmed destroyed," Fabian announced as she started tabulating the newest incoming reports. "Three enemy combatants have slowed their advance... scratch that they are approaching again. I am reading multiple electro-magnetic and slug thrower weapons activating."

"Re-task missile salvo for extreme prejudice," the Captain declared. "Remove all opposition."

"_Missiles re-tasked and locked_," Harrison nodded as he flashed back into his full-life form. "_Load-out calculated for maximum dispersion_."

"Fire!" Lawbaaut shouted, a second later the icon that represented the Dynamic on the SIT flashed, dozens of angry hornets threw themselves out into space before smacking into the three approaching icons of the enemy fighters.

"Contacts two and three have been completely destroyed," Lieutenant David asserted. "Contact one has lost full life support and reactor integrity. Detonation in three... two... destroyed."

A thunderous explosion vaporized outward, a semi-nuclear blast signaled the last ships explosion. But already the base was bringing its weapons to bear, already weapons batteries were volleying dozens of salvos at them and several larger encampments were volleying off mass driver shots, magnetically charged asteroids being flung at the Guard warship.

"_They are if anything but persistent_," Harrison noted as his point-defense turrets were already taking out most of the incoming fire.

"Re-target missile tubes and plasma cannon for main base," Lawbaaut announced, spying the offending base with a terrible glare. "Open up another channel to the pirates."

"Done," Gunderson nodded as he activated another series of channels.

"_This is the Dynamic to enemy combatants,_" his voice was firm and it was very clear the man knew he had the upper hand in this situation. "_You are given one final chance to surrender. If you do not we will open fire, disable you and board your facility by force. You have thirty-seconds to comply_."

Thirty-seconds came, went and still the base unloaded its entire armory at the _Dynamic_... yet few managed to gain a hit and none could pass her intense armor. Compared to the Cylon onslaught that first downed them, this was child's play,

"Take targets sparsely," Fabian ordered as she began to lock her weapons on. "I want them disabled and ready to stand for their crimes."

"Fire a will!" Lawbaaut shouted.

"Targets locked and firing!" Harrison confirmed and an instant later two dozen offensive kinetic missiles fired along with a barrage of drones, followed in close succession with several bursts from the forward plasma cannon.

Missile batteries on the tiny planetoid evaporated under the impacts, the ground around them become super heated lava and shattered with the hit. A small portion of the western hemisphere was immolated, chunks of the base breaking away as superheated atmosphere escaped out into space.

In barely a minute the base's weapons were silent, lights flickering among the few portions of the facility that was exposed for the world to see as power fought to return to the damaged sections.

"_Direct hits along their ventral quarters_," Harrison confirmed after an intensive scan, "_most of their power-production facilities and life support are off-line_."

"Good," Lawbaaut nodded. "Prepare three troop detachments for immediate deployment and keep-"

Everything disappeared into a bright light and for a second everyone had to shield their eyes as the SIT holo-projectors quickly compensated for the immense release of energy by dimming its projections... just long enough for the entire crew to see the facility had disappeared into a massive mushroom cloud expanding out from the side of the station.

"Did we hit something?" the Captain was rubbing his eyes, trying to work away the spots in his vision. ""Was the damage that bad?"

"_No_," the AI appeared beside him, "_sensors detected a sudden surge of energy in the central reactors... right before containment control breached. I believe they just self-destructed_..."

"They killed themselves to avoid capture?" Marlop commented, turning his attention away from the main navigation station.

"No..." it was Gunderson who spoke now, "I intercepted a powerful external transmission just prior to the safety failure. Someone destroyed her from remote command."

"Do we detect anyone? Lawbaaut asked towards Commander Fabian.

"Negative," the woman shook her head from the SIT, "with sensor interference from the Belt, it could have come from anywhere... most likely those freighters that escape."

"Bring us around," Lawbaaut sighed, "prepare to escort the _Astral Queen _back to base..."

* * *

"I can't believe this is how you're sneaking us abroad," the air hot, the confines of the small room they occupied was cramped beyond belief and it stank.

"Stealth is everything when it comes to infiltration," Alhex grinned, even as he leaned up against the nearest wall barely a short distance away.

"A sewage recycling ship!" Felix hissed. "Of all the ships you picked a sewage ship!"

"One thing we can be certain of," his companion explained, "is this kind of ship is not the kind anyone wants to be around, let alone notice."

"The great Space Guard," Gaeta' voice dripped with sarcasm, "with all those fighters, warships, technology that makes the all the Colonies barely worth a second glance... but somehow you pick a garbage hauler."

Garbage hauler was the kindest name Gaeta could think of for the _Demetrius_, it was more of a sewage ship. These kinds of ships were meant for tethering off at long-range outposts and larger cruise liners that could not land ground-side, using its specially designed systems to process and cleaning their most offending wastes.

Since a ship like this didn't merit real investment, its insides were cramped, its quarters were tiny and the broom closet they had snuck themselves into was almost suffocating.

And the closeness, more being crammed together, was not helping the situation.

"This mission is no sanctioned by either the Colonies or the Hegemony," Alhex looked his eyes on him, trying to get the seriousness of the situation across. "If we get caught we need plausible deniability."

"You think something could go wrong?" his attention was piqued.

"I expect for things to go wrong," the man reiterated, "its my job after all."

"But the smell!" he tried to grin but since it wasn't a very far from the truth, the burning stench in his nostrils has horrific.

"I rather enjoy it," Alhex shrugged with a smirk. "Its like Than mating pheromones, but with less wings and scratching of mandibles. At least there are no small green larva calling me daddy... again."

"I won't ask and I beg you not to tell..."

* * *

In the thick of the dusty rings, _Pegasus_ rocked as a wave of missiles struck her starboard flight pod. Everyone had to fight to keep their position, Helena fought to keep her position as she routed orders.

"Gun turret four," the Admiral roared over the speaker, "divert firing solution forty-six degree down, _Raider's_ are trying to out flank us!"

"Ensign re-divert all bow flak fire to defensive salvos," Jurgen was beside her, firing off orders as quickly as his superior. "Tell _Vipers_ to stay out of our firing solution!"

"Gina!" Helena shouted at the young woman holding onto her station for dear life, "I need input!"

Hands flew over her station and from the screens hanging above her head, information was flying past Gina's eyes at near blinding speeds. Within seconds, which to everyone else just seemed to be a blur of movement, she had an answer.

"Mineral composition of the belt seems to be creating a refractive halo on dradis," the woman revealed. "Our _Vipers_ and ordinance are having trouble getting a hit because they can't see it properly on their instruments. The ship's signature is literally being displaced into three different locations and several meters out of sync."

"Any way we can correct?" Kendra asked as another blast rocked the deck.

"Re-divert four salvos," Gina abandoned her station, rushing towards the central console and pointing directly at the dradis feeds above them all. "Lock two for above the _Basestar_, one to port, last one to astern. The concussive blast shout be enough to dissolve the cloud!"

"_DO IT_!"

The order was given, relayed down to the gunners, and an instance after four wide-dispersion rounds exploded forth. The _Basestar_ didn't react at first, it already had calculated the shots would miss it completely and why waste the ammunition?

But when the prime rounds reached their distance and the chemical reactions within their innards reached critical, each exploded in a violent blooming... the shock-wave enough to disperse all the small rocks and space dust around them.

It was too late for the _Basestar_ to realize their cover had been blown as three long-range, dual barrels guns took aim and fired... cleaving off on of the warships arms.

"Confirmed hits!" Jurgen shouted and a cry of triumph erupted among the CIC crew.

"They're returning fire," Hoshi called out as the dradis screens showed several new icons. "Oh, my Gods. They're launching nukes! Brace for impact!"

For the first portion of the battle the Cylons had relied on conventional warheads. Obviously it had taken them time to load the nuclear slugs and now in position the Cylons were more than happy to them to their fullest.

Helena was tossed to the side violently, her shoulder connecting with the deck-plating and she had to fight not to scream out. Her vision blurred for a second and then suddenly a hand was pulling her back.

"Get on your feet, Admiral," Gina steady Cain back to her feet.

"Damage report?" she called out, clapping a reassuring hand on her lover's shoulder.

"Belzen is down!" Lieutenant Shaw called out, kneeling over the unconscious second-in-command, a growing pool of blood forming from the expansive gash in his forehead. "He's dead!"

There was only a moment of hesitation in the air.

"Get that body out of here!" Helena ordered, two marines quickly obliged and removed her downed officer.

"Two... two nuclear detonations in the stern, sir," Hoshi reported. "Sickbay reports multiple causalities... and FTL drive inoperative."

"Then we're stuck here, sir," Kendra grimly noted...

* * *

The halls were spinning by, corners being taken at break neck speeds and a few times James had to fight to keep his balance as his feet were starting to outrun the rest of his body.

He was so focused over getting to his destination he nearly overran it, it required skirting to a stop the moment he was on the intersection, a three way corridor with a massive cargo bay door slammed over the one side, creating a tight corner.

The children were crying, holding each other in terror, but they were clustered together, as if using the corner as some kind of protection.

"Are you hear to help," a little girl stood up as he approached, face dirt with clean lines running down from her eyes hinting that she had been crying recently.

"You kids alright?" he asked, wading through them as desperate little hands grabbed at his pant legs.

It took only three long steps, avoiding the tiny bodies, to find where she lay.

"Jusi'Lada!" he gasped, his stomach suddenly forcing itself down by his feet.

She lay on the deck, a good portion of her glass faceplate was missing and tears littered her entire upper body, letting a steady steam of pink cotton-candy colored gas to bleed free from her body.

"She won't wake up," the little girl was hanging over the Quarian, a tiny hand held over a tear in the suit but those tiny fingers weren't enough to keep the purple gases inside from escaping.

"Jusi'Lada?" he leaned over her face, hoping to catch a glimpse of those glowing purple eyes that normally stared out from her helmet at him. "Jusi'Lada, come on... lemme know you're alright."

"Con... containment," a hoarse, strained voice escaped from the gas, a dark shadow flashing under the smoke.

"What?" he gasped.

"Hit... button on belt..." she pointed towards a string of multi-colored buttons that covered the lower portion of the belt that crossed her body, "green... then red... then blue... then green again..."

"Alright," he nodded, slowly reaching downward to tap the green button... then the red... tapping the blue one before finally hitting the green one again.

A hissing sound echoed in the hall, for just a moment the gas escaping from her suit seemed to flush outward before lessening and then disappearing. Then tiny tears in the suit began to evaporate, the suit material sealing up like it was being cut in reverse, re-stitching itself in seconds.

But the gap in the woman's faceplate was too large to heal over and as the gas faded from her helmet, Meier's gained the first unhindered look at the Quarian's face... and he was dumbfounded.

"Your... your..." he gaped, trying to get his brain to catch up with his mouth.

"Oh shut up," the hoarse voice answered with the trademark sarcasm he associate with her. "Now get me to a med station because I am already swimming in antibiotics..."

* * *

"Don't you worry," Saul kept his hold on her shoulders, keeping pace with the staggering and slipping Ellen beside him. "I'll get us home."

"Oh, yeah, right!" she laughed, waving at several passing cadets with a bottle of ambrosia like it was the funniest thing in the world. "Just like Bill's use to when we'd go out drinking."

"Don't start on Bill," he warned her, his voice dark for just a second before the alcohol squashed it back down.

"Ugh... you..." Ellen grumbled and for a second Saul thought she was going to be sick. "He doesn't have the slightest idea what he's doing!"

"You don't have to yell it through the hall," he hissed, thankful the entire ship was still in the night cycle and everyone was in their bunks.

"Bill Adama doesn't a Gods damn frakking thing!" Ellen both yelled and laughed at the same time, her voice cracking through the metal hallways... and catching the attention of two individuals who did not want any attention.

"Colonel?" Felix didn't mean to blurt it out and received a punch in the shoulder from Alhex for blowing their cover.

"Lieutenant... Lieutenant," he nodded at both them men and from the sloshed look on his face, Felix was finally thankful that his superior officer was such an alcoholic.

"Woo!" Ellen threw her arms up in the air, hooting and bouncing as if she was in her own private party.

"Is everything alright..." Felix asked, figuring that the pair were so out of it, to ignore it could be dangerous.

"You're so handsome," Ellen suddenly raced forward and wrapped her hands around Alhex's shoulders. "And the pleasure's all mine."

"As I'd guess," Moneti nodded, though he quickly began to extract himself from her. "But if you don't mind...

"I'm watching you," Saul wheezed, locking eyes on both him and his wife, "both of you."

"Would you like some help back to your quarters, Colonel?" Felix queried.

"Ah, you wanna come join us?" Ellen cackled at the invitation. "My husband doesn't do that but I wouldn't mind such company."

"I don't believe that would be very appropriate," Alhex took a step backwards, keeping some distance between the pair.

"Fun, but not appropriate," Alhex commented but he still received a glare from Gaeta. "What? It's rude to turn down an invitation from a young lady."

"You're so sweet," she held up the bottle of ambrosia, taking a quick slip before offering up the bottle to the pair. "Care to join me for the last drink of the night?"

"Don't mind if I do," without pause or question Alhex reached forward, snagged the bottle from Ellen's hands and up turned it.

Six gulps, that's how long it took him to down the bottle's entire contents to disappear and since it was a fresh bottle, the shear amount Alhex had just consumed astounding the Colonials standing around him.

"Hmm," Alhex slicked his lips, not even phased by the several liters of ambrosia he had just downed. "Colonial liquor seems a bit light compared to most of the human brands I have tried."

"That was an entire bottle of vintage ambrosia," Saul was looking at him with his mouth agape.

"Remind me next time you're aboard _Victory," _Moneti smiled sheepishly. "I'll give you a taste of something called Vodka. If you think ambrosia's strong, authentic Vodka will leave you drunk for a week."

"We better get going," Saul was already starting to usher Ellen along, who barely noticed the entire exchange.

"Count on it," she waved as she was moved along. "Ta… ta! Oh, Saulie, are you... are you jealous..."

Down the corridor they disappeared and Felix breathed a sigh of relief the moment they were out of sight. So far they had gotten abroad by the skin of their backsides, now this close encounter was causing their luck to quick disappear down the tube.

"Come on," he waved Alhex along behind him, trying to remain as quiet as he could. "Are you alright?"

"Why?" Moneti looked at him. "Oh the bottle... water on _Semarang_ has a higher alcohol content then your Colonial liquors."

"Remind me to visit your beaches sometime," Felix grinned as they snaked through the corridors, in and out of a few store rooms and through at least one restroom.

"Yeah, sure," Alhex mumbled. "Are we there yet?"

They were around the corner and into some obscure side room, computers and shelves of bound reports. It was a sort of records room, a table in the center was strewn with a number of paper books.

"What is this place?" the Guard officer asked, dumbfounded how the this room had any real importance since it smelled like musty paper and dust.

"This is the secondary comm suite," Felix explained as he snatched up the closest computer and set to work, scrolling through data files so fast it was nearly blinding. "No one using it since everything is getting transferred over to _Tartarus_ but it still has access to most of the main communication lines."

Wrinkles covered his features, trying to see everything as quickly as possible but still trying to gather every bit he could... until finally he caught something.

"Looks like the Colonel is going to be using the _Battlestar Odin_ to bring the marines over," Felix noted, continuing to scroll down and through the report.

"Why an entire _Battlestar_?" Alhex wondered, a bit confused by such an option by a man who they had just seconds ago was stumbling drunk down the corridors.

"_Odin's_ a _Berserker_-class _Battlestar_," Gaeta explained, "a lot smaller then _Galactica_ but she can carry over six-hundred marines into combat and her armors almost twice as thick as ours."

"Colonel Tigh only said they were bringing over a hundred soldiers when we debriefed," Alhex commented.

"My bet is that he expects all the dockworkers to be arrested," Felix grimaced with a spat of anger in his voice. "He'll need the room to transport them off station. _Odin_ was on the repair manifest a few weeks ago. Her life support was compromised so half her compliment had to be moved off to the _Battlestar Mercury_. Since _Mercury's_ now deployed near _Tauron_, my guess is that he wants to use that empty space for some good."

"Maybe I could have a few engineering drones cause a little bit of damage to the _Odin's_ sub-lights," Alhex theorized, already coming up with several possible plans. "They can skip in and be done in a few seconds. No one would have a clue anything was amiss until the entire _Battlestar_ is adrift-"

"How about something with less explosions?" Felix proposed with a smirk, though the perturbed look he gained said Alhex was looking forward to some destruction. "I'll send off a preliminary repair request for her _Viper_ squadrons to be fully prepped."

"It's a troop ship," Moneti eyebrows furrowed. "why would it carry fighters?"

"Exactly," Felix smiled broadly. "The anomalous report will force them to stop everything, authenticate why a troop ship is being asked about fighter status and by the time they get it all sorted out we will have 'bout a few hours."

"For someone who's so anal retentive for detail," the man grinned ear to ear, "you sure know how to cause a lot of chaos."

"Thanks... I think," he tried to seem presentable but he didn't know if he had just been complimented or insulted. "There we go, message sent. Should be an hour before _Odin_ receives it and considering their launch time is in two-hours, we have just bought ourselves at least eight-hours."

"Good, let's make them count..."

* * *

Helena had to steady herself again as another nuke slammed into the bow, forcing her to pause for a moment during her tandem of commands.

"...have _Viper_ squadron to pull back!" she howled, "they're out to far. Redeploy forward cannons keep that flak up!"

Another large explosion tried to force the floor out from under her but she was not about to go down.

"Nuclear detonation!" Hoshi said as he compiled another damage report. "We have structural damage along the topside heat exchanger. We can't take much more of this."

"Reactor core is putting out everything it can," Gina announced from her station nearby, "but we're pushing too much power through the ACL. We'll blow the whole system if we don't end this soon, we won't need the _Basestar_ to take us down."

They weren't going to make it.

Kendra had already calculated the best case scenarios and no matter what she could come up with they all ended with most of their pilots dead, _Pegasus_ destroyed or cripple damage. Those were her best projections. The _Basestar_ was using the dust cover to hide from their targeting systems, while deploying its nuclear armed Raiders to harass their defenses.

But no matter how many times she went over it in her head she knew there was only one thing she could do that would give those pilots an equal chance of coming home alive today.

"Ensign!" Kendra yelled, "direct all batteries to commit full load of fire, close range... " at her sudden command Hoshi found himself standing dumbfounded on the spot, "NOW, Ensign."

One look at Cain and a nod of acceptance was all he needed to execute her orders.

Selective fire was a slow and meticulous process, used when friendly targets were considered too close to enemy units and the friend of friendly fire kept they from throwing everything into the air.

Full load though was when friendly fire was your last concern and blowing the enemy out of the sky was foremost.

That came as little conciliation to those _Viper_ pilots as they suddenly found themselves no longer surrounded by enemy ships, but now enemy ships _and_ their own _Battlestar's_ flak fire.

"How long before those drives are back up?" Helena called to the helm.

"Unknown," Gina grimly asserted, "engine room is surveying the damage now."

"We them back," Cain ordered. "Gina start routing jump coordinates through your computers, try and get us an escape route. I'll start to reel our _Vipers_ back in immediately. Lieutenant Shaw, you have weapon's command."

"Sir?" Shaw was taken aback by the assignment.

"You have command, officer," the woman stared down at her with cold eyes. Before breaking off to assist Lieutenant Hoshi and Inviere repair their drives.

"Sir," someone shouted for her attention. "What are your orders?"

She wasn't ready for this, she was a fleet attaché. Shuffling papers and carrying out minor commands, nothing like commanding an entire _Battlestar_. She just had to take a deep breath and-

"Helm!" she roared. "Make for flak speed at the _Baseship_. And roll us over to keep our top side out of their line of fire. Contact Showboat and Nacho. Tell them to concentrate on protecting our top side."

"Aye, sir," the officers nodded.

"_Baseship_ dead ahead," _Pegasus_ rocked from another impact as the helm reported their position. "we're closing rapidly! We can't keep taking hits like this, Lieutenant."

"Steady as you go," Shaw commanded. "Have the bow battery stand by for a salvo fire. Target their center axis, forty-five angel inclination. Tell _Vipers_ to form a wedge formation and clear our path."

"Yes, sir!" Hoshi acknowledged as he pulled his squadrons back in.

"Twenty-two hundred and closing," the helm announced as they closed to near point-blank range. "Main battery has a firing solution!"

"Fire!"

Four salvos five, two and then two from each round of the bow batteries. They raced across the space of the rings, dust echoing out of their way in tiny shock-waves as they disappeared into the cloud. _Viper_ squadrons shadowed the corridor the weapon's fire followed, ensuring that no _Raiders_ decided to play the heroics and intercept the salvo in a measure of self-sacrifice for their motherships.

The _Basestar_ turned, trying to avoid the impacts but instead took the hits along the upper portion of its central pylon, where the hull branched off into its three upward arms.

Fire erupted as the rounds shattered, blowing a tremendous hole in the ship but they blasting outward as secondary ordinance locked inside the shell casing was released and flew out in all directions. The force was enough to tear one of her upper arms free while sending the bulk of the leftover projectiles into the lower portions of the ship. Flaming debris flew in all directions as the _Basestar_ took massive damage.

"_Baseship's_ turning away," Hoshi hooted. "He's... he's frakkin' running, Lieutenant!"

"We can't let him get away," Kendra shouted. "Helm, come around hard... "

* * *

Barely an hour had passed they had managed to get back abroad the _Anchorage_, having to wait in the storage lockers of the _Demetrius_ for even longer before they finally managed to get back abroad.

"I can't believe we pulled that off!" Felix nearly was bouncing from the excitement and adrenaline in him.

"You really are easily entertained," Alhex winked at him.

"Can't say that I don't like a thrill every now and again," Felix grinned at him.

A chirp from the wrist comm on his wrist divided Alhex's attention for a second, a holographic screen blowing up before him before a second later a sour look appeared on his face.

"Good because station rumor mill just turned out its first bits of facts," he sighed after a moment. "The dockyard workers have dropped their '_call out sick_' ploy. They've officially declared this a strike."

"Has the President or Commander heard about this?" Felix was feeling a deepening sensation in his stomach.

"You know they already have," Alhex groaned. "Barely a tenth of the comm traffic on the _Anchorage_ is for secure uses and the dockworkers didn't use any of them. I know Specialist Dualla probably did her best but the moment they started to chatter amongst themselves, any ship in the local space would have snatched it up."

"Then we are in serious trouble..."

* * *

The garden plaza was crowded, tents hastily set up among the picnic tables and small cooking fires set up on whatever bits of concrete weren't covered by the huddle masses.

She found her on one of the rare benches that wasn't occupied by a sleeping body, hunched over and trying to force the tears that streamed down her face to finally cease.

"He's gone," Six's voice was remote, far-off.

"There's a chance he could heal," Amanda slowly placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her, "eventually his memory will return and he'll love you just as much-

"I tried to kill him," Six interjected. "I thought the world was coming to an end and it was just more humane to put him out of his misery before he realized I had been using him... making our entire relationship just an end to a means... now he can't know anything... at all.

"I killed Gaius Baltar," her head hung low and her eyes were dark, "and I knew it... and now I have to live with that."

For a long while it was silence that prevailed, only the sound of passing feet and the distant chatter of distant voices.

"It makes me wonder," Amanda exhaled in a long-breath, "how many more are out there like me, who know what they are and try to hide it to blend in. Or even worse, don't know what they are 'til they get caught doing something that their programing forced them to do."

"At least you stopped yourself," Six gave her a long look.

"But how many don't have my luxury?" she spoke.

The murmur of whispers from the surrounding people drew their attention away, as the crowds of refugees parted just enough to allow the hulking form of Ocinis to approach them.

"The shuttle from _Victory_ has arrived," he announced the moment he was within range. "We should grab our gear and get out of this forsaken city fast."

"Ocinis," Six looked directly at the alien, "how many Cylons were left when you crashed the network?"

"Huntleader," he tilted his head at her, "the shuttle is-"

"Ocinis..." her voice was overtaxed and forceful, "please..."

"Close to seven-hundred profiles were confirmed," he nodded after a sigh, "before Alli crashed the system... the majority were inactive personalities waiting activation."

"That could be seven-hundred people in possible danger of doing something against their will," Amanda confessed in total sadness. "We should be able to help them just like you helped me."

"What are you suggesting Amanda?" Six gave her a look between understanding and concern.

"We need to find them and help them before something happens they can't control," she justified. "We need to save them from themselves if we have to."

"Fleet Command has been aware of all the seven of the Cylon models in the solar system," Ocinis defended. "They are being monitored in case of possible danger. We believe they shouldn't be overburdened with the truth as long as they have done nothing suspicious."

"You're monitoring them but your don't know if they are Cylons acting human or Cylons that think they're human..." Six eyes bore into him with a terrible intensity, "either way they are a danger to us all and most especially to themselves and we have to help them before they lose everything like I did."

"Looks like the hunt never ends..."

* * *

The door opened and for a second it was merely the sleep in her eyes that made her see nothing. It wasn't until Billy cleared his throat that Laura realized she wasn't alone.

"Billy," she nodded, trying not to loose her place as she forced her attention back to reality.

"I have Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Thrace for you, Madam President," the young man nodded.

"See them in," she accepted, before he had a chance to disappear she quickly attempted to clear the scattered papers that covered the desk.

"Madam President," Captain Adama announced as he entered, Lieutenant Thrace in tow. "I've been in direct contact with the doctor's abroad the _Kyoto St. Pierre_. Mister Gardner is alive with only a mild head injury and some bruising."

"Thank the Gods," Laura sighed in relief, the sickening drop in her stomach lightened just a bit.

"Yes, sir," Kara joined in. "But he was pretty frakked up. He's unconscious, he's lost a lot of blood. He'll be down for a few days but walking around in about a week."

"Madam President," Apollo proposed, with a hint of hesitation. "I don't mean to be up start but I believe that Gardner's shuttle should be re-diverted to the nearest Hegemony vessel."

"And what makes you say that?" Laura's brow knitted together.

"Someone is obviously out to kill him," Lee explained. "First Leipziger dies of an air embolism and next thing you know Secretary Lorena is killed in a train crash and barely twenty-minutes later Gardner's Raptor is attacked by supposed '_rogue Vipers_'. Then an hour later and on the other side of the system Secretary Nordstroms ship is destroyed. Gardner could be the only survivor of a possible mass assassination."

"My thought's exactly," Laura gave a ting quirk at the corner of her mouth. "That is why I had his shuttle rerouted to the _Victory_ five-minutes ago."

A hinting grin appeared on both the officer's faces, more then happy that the President was catching on faster then they'd expect.

"Madam President," Kara now voiced her opinion. "I think this is all glorified crap. The fact that hours after Leipziger's death the only two people beside yourself who stood in the way of King Kumara's and the presidency suddenly meet bloody ends is just too convenient?"

"Are you implying the appointed royalty of _Virgon_ may have a hand in these deaths?" Laura was deathly serious.

"That's not what I-"

"The idea seems to be the most prevalent in my mind right now," Laura cut off Starbuck's defense before she had a second to muster it.

"Don't you think we should start a military investigation?" Apollo raised the question.

"Kumara is smart..." Laura sighed, feeling that sleep start to pull at her senses again, "and he has support. _Virgon_ suffered the least after the attack and because of that they have incredible support, revenues and materials at their disposal. I believe the only reason that I am alive right now is because the _Tripoint_ security is so tight that they don't even have dinner knives at any of the cafes."

"I'll talk to my father and see about having him send over a few more marines as a security detail," Lee started to turn to leave even as he offered a wave goodbye. "If that is all-"

"Could you both wait for just a moment," Laura motioned for both of them to take one of the plush chairs before her desk. Both officers took the seats but it was Lee that garnered her attention. "I am aware that you were involved in the hostage situation on the _Astral Queen_. I know what a hard thing that is to live with, having to make the decisions you had to make."

"I can't stop thinking about it," Apollo sighed, feeling a strain in his heart. "But a man... has to accept responsibility for his actions. He doesn't second-guess the choices he makes, he lives with them, every day."

"You know," Laura rose from behind her desk, moving over towards the open window and the cool night air that escaped in like a breath of fresh air. "I remember when President Adar sent the marines into _Aerilon_. Fifteen people died. In public, of course, he had to say all the usual things. He... he was sure of what he'd done, made the right choice, stayed the course. But he knew it was a mistake. And he kept the names of the dead in his desk drawer. He said that it was imperative for a leader to remember and learn from the mistakes even if they can't admit to them publicly."

"Do you think we made a mistake?" Lee's eyes focus on her, narrowing for just an instance.

"I don't know," she shrugged at the question with as much honesty as she could muster. "I don't have a desk drawer yet but that number on the wall... it is a testament to how many people lost their lives in the worse disaster to ever be fall our people. Everyday I have to see it and remember all those people that lost friends, family and loved ones."

Rocking back on her heels she looked out over the city, out over the gleaming lights and the glowing halo of a nighttime _Caprica_ hanging in the sky. It was erie how dark the night-side was, city lights were fewer and everything seemed to be coated in one black cloud that hung over the equator.

"Now Ms. Thrace," she turned her attention back tot he pair. "I understand that you have been organizing joint Colonial and Space Guard patrols over the entire solar system."

"Yeah," the young woman confirmed. "With our _Battlestar_ fleet so damaged and understaffed we can spare few ships for patrol. That leaves huge holes the Cylons could sneak right through. Fighters can't hit a _Basestar_ very hard but it can offer us an early warning for possible incursions."

"Good work," Laura congratulated. "I don't want to add to your burdens, however, I have a request..."

"We're listening..." Lee leaned back in his seat, expecting something to come of this.

"As you know during the attack we lost a vast majority of the Presidential cabinet," Laura denoted as she returned to the desk. "Now with Gardner in the hospital, Nordstrom's ship destroyed and Lorena gone, Adar's entire administration has been reduced to me... that's forty some positions unoccupied."

"Madam President," Kara's eyebrows popped up a full foot, "are you asking us to be part of your cabinet."

"Captain Apollo," Laura turned her eyes towards the young man. "I would like you to assume the position of Secretary of Defense, as a personal military advisor to myself."

"I'm sorry," Lee fidgeted, suddenly becoming very uncomfortable, "um... my father is the senior military officer, he should advise you."

"Oh, no, no, no, no..." Laura grinned. "I don't mean to go behind your father's back. Nothing like that. The position of the Ministry of Defense is not for military advice, it is for advice about the military and the security it maintains. Your progress during the incident on the _Astral Queen_, resorting to non-violent ways to resolve a situation, talking down a suicidal man and then putting him back to work for the good of society. I would appreciate more of those insights, how to make our armed forces work better that is not burdened by commanding those armed forces. Because of that you can keep your day job at the C... A... G."

"It's pronounced '_CAG_'," Lee quickly corrected her.

"Do you see why I need you?" she giggled as a little before switching her attention to Kara. "Now, Ms. Thrace, in your position you have have hundreds of fighters under your command, people reporting to you daily, information from all corners of our homeworlds coming and going through you, all for the continued protection of this system."

"Yes, ma'am," Starbuck nodded.

"Then to legitimize that post," Laura crossed her hands over her chest. "I would like you to assume the position as Secretary of Security."

"People barely want me to fly a _Viper_," Kara looked like she found this the greatest shock and the greatest joke of her life. "You want me to make me a Secretary and give me a whole Ministry to run."

"Well not much a of Ministry now," Laura suggested. "Both the headquarters for the Ministry of Defense and Ministry of Security were lost when Caprica City fell and all but two of their field offices were outright destroyed. As of right now the Ministry of Security is composed of six... all low level field agents. We've found no survivors from the Ministry of Defense."

"So we are on our own," Lee looked at her straight.

"You will of course be given all the resources you need," she presented, "and be allowed to appoint whatever individuals you see fit but it is going hard going for a while. In effect you are the Ministries for the time being. So do you accept?"

They looked at each other for just a second, a silent agreement between the pair before they returned to an answer.

"Yes," Lee nodded. "Um... so, who's going to tell my father?"

"Well..." Laura groaned a bit but hid it well, "ahem... uh... I was thinking that that would be your first assignment. Along with passing along this message for himself."

"Somehow," Lee laughed. "I knew you were gonna say that."

"Thank you, Secretary Adama... Secretary Thrace..."

* * *

They marched on, long columns of machines that tramped through the forest, crushing everything in its path, from bush to tree.

"Frakking noise!" Helo cursed as he dropped the binoculars and slide back on ridge a little farther out of sight. "I don't get it. I've blown away Centurions before and they've never sent an entire army after me."

Sighing, he leaned up against the rock-face, enjoying the small amount of shelter it offered from the beating sunlight. Beside him Boomer lay, trying to morph her body to fit perfectly into the shadows and away from the heat... and maybe a little further from Helo.

She didn't need to be feeling this, the terrible sense of betrayal and guilt that was welling up inside of her.

"_We've made it this far_," he could hear his words from only days before still ringing in her ears, "_we're gonna make it all the way_."

She inched away a bit, trying to put whatever distance she could manage on this small cliff between her and the man of all their conflicting emotions.

"_If something happened to you_," Helo's voice whispered in the back of her head, "_I wouldn't know how to deal with it_."

It stung, like a bee had just flown right into her heart and jabbed its stinger as deep into her flesh as possible.

_Why should I care_? she thought to herself, _I had a mission... have a mission... then why do I care what happens to him?_

"_If he flees, he dies_," it was Five's words in her mind now, a manical laugh accompanying its declaration.

"_Does he love you?_" Six was now in her thoughts, pushing for answers she could knew the answer too but dare not speak.

"They're after me," Sharon muttered, getting a look of distant concern. "While they were holding me, I overheard some things."

"What?" Helo shot her a look, truly unsettled by how she had come by that information.

"Plans, deployments," Sharon moaned and whooshed, not liking what was coming from her lips. "A big Cylon base not far from here, a major hub."

"Frak!" Helo cursed. "They think you can use that against them."

"Not just that," Boomer added. "It's the best place to try to grab a ship and try to get off this frakking planet and back to _Galactica_..."

* * *

The debris of three _Basestars_ and several squadrons of _Raiders_ only added to the thick soup that already constituted the planetary ring. _Pegasus_ had to fight to avoid the larger chunks, chrome hull plating drifted dangerous close to her form, defensive flak batteries had to fire to destroy several from impacting against the _Battlestar's_ skin.

"Rescue _Raptor's_ away," Gina announced as they confirmed the launch of the pair of tiny ships. "Estimate that Buster's _Raptor_ has an hour of air left."

"Cutting it close," Cain muttered. "More than a few _Raiders_ jumped out after we took down the last _Basestar_. We don't have the leisure of a well planned rescue. Confirm if their alive, if yes then haul the ship in... if not leave it and we'll jump."

It had taken forever, pulling a few dozen circuits, hauling out more fiber optic cable then she knew _Pegasus_ could carry but they had managed to pull the FTL system back online. It was still flickering in and out, a hefty repair to her sensor array would have to be made but Helena was not about to order it until they were safely out of the cloud.

On the dradis screen the icon of the rescue _Raptors_ neared Buster's ship.

"_Pegasus, Red Devil_," Steve 'Red Devil' Fleer voice crackled over the wireless speaker. "_Our bird look intact. Can't quite see inside yet. Commander, we're unable to raise the Raptor o n wireless. Going for visual confirmation... Oh, my gods. Pegasus, Raptor crew are dead. Cockpit's cracked open like an egg... I repeat. They're all dead.._."

Helena sighed as the weight on her shoulders increased a little more.

"Okay, commence jump prep," she ordered. "Bring our birds home... "

* * *

"Sorry," Laura breezed into the office, gliding over the floor with a sense of purpose and knowing smile in her face. "I was attending to a minor diplomatic catastrophe with _Gemenon_. I could sleep for about a year. Yourself?"

Across from her Commander Adama settled into one of the arm chairs, legs closed and hands folded so his fingers were splayed over each other.

"The situation on _Ragnar Anchorage_ and the transfer to _Tartarus_ is taking up most of my time," Adama explained as he offered her a nod as she took her place behind the wide oak desk that dominated her office. "No time to sleep on our end either. From what I understand you've promoted my son and top pilot to members in your cabinet."

"I believe they will make fine additions," Laura grinned at the man's little insult on her part. "Its a small reward for all their hard work."

"Gods knows they deserve a little bit of recognition," Adama nodded in earnest.

"Recognition that you also deserve," she gestured towards her young assistant that held at the far corner of the room during their whole exchange. "Billy."

"It took a little while to find a jeweler," "but thankfully they have a few abroad the _Demarcation Line_."

He approached her, holding a small black container in his hands. Slowly, like with great care not to break them. Inside sat a set of admiral ranked insignias from the box, before slowly handing them over for the man before her to see.

"Thank you," Laura thanked the young man before presenting them to Adama. "Rumor has it that I know very little about military protocol, but I do believe that someone who commands more than one ship is called an admiral. You on the other hand have taken the command of the entire Colonial military and a greater portion of the civilian fleet, leading them both in the defense of our homeworlds and keeping our civilization at a whole when it was at its brink..."

"I won't accept that," Adama held back, unwilling to even look at them.

"And why not... Admiral," she reiterated that last point, to the man's personal carnage.

"Because since every person at the rank of admiral and above was killed during the attack," Adama may have talked with a gruff resonance in his voice but he wasn't stupid, he knew what this would mean. "You award me that and I will be elevated to the rank of Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff by default... a position I neither have interest in nor deserve."

For a long while she was quiet, regarding him even as she tapped a finger against the case.

"Commander," Laura sighed, "I won't sugar coat it and I certainly won't lie to you because I know you'll see right through it. There are fractions that would rather see our people under an iron heel and used to further their own gains, gains that are no where in the interest of the Colonial way of life... one of those fractions is King Kumara."

"I understand the _Virgon_ royal ass is causing a lot of trouble-"

"He's possibly responsible for the deaths of the three people directly between himself and the Presidency..." Laura cut off Adama's words, "brutal deaths that took many innocent lives that to only the coldest eyes would be considered '_collateral damage'_."

She was quiet again, letting the words sink in, for what she said to start opening the wound before she went in for the real blow.

"Admiral Adama," she dream out those words so she knew he'd get them loud and clear, "I am not giving you this commendation and promotion just because you deserve it. I am giving this promotion and commendation because I need you. I am a civilian, a school teacher who knows little of how this government works and how to keep our people functioning... but you do. You know how they work, what they want... what needs to be done to protect them. If I happen to unable to preform my duties I need someone I know who can step in and lead our people... and that someone is never going to be Kumara."

"And that would make me sixth in line of succession instead of the King's forty-seventh," Adama nodded. "Well I guess I have no real choice."

A knowing smile began to spread over Laura's face.

"Congratulations, Admiral Adama," she handed over the pins, more then happy to have that weight off her hands.

"Thank you, Madame president," he nodded, accepting the promotion before slowly starting to turn and leave.

"Just one more thing, Admiral," Laura declared to catch his head just right. "From what I know the Chairman on the Joint Chiefs gets to choose any warship currently in the Fleet for his command. Since Galactica wasn't officially decommissioned until you were to arrive at the Fleet Museum the Battlestar is still technically in the Fleet."

"That is true," Adama confirmed.

"And can I assume you wished to have your Battlestar as your flagship?" Laura continued to press onward.

"Undoubtedly," Bill again nodded.

"Then since we need a ship worthy of a Joint Chief," Laura assumed her position behind the desk and as the position of authority she wielded. "I am ordering _Galactica_ to be fast-tracked for repairs and calling in whatever favors we have from the Space Guard to give you top priority and the latest upgrades."

"Thank you, Madam President..."

* * *

The _Raptors_ were on the deck, twenty of the birds cooling their jets in the largely empty cargo bay. Dark brown and boxy crafts, that sharply contrasted with the black metal ground of the _Anchorage_ and the tall metallic walls that overhung them all.

Felix was prepared for Colonel Tigh, as best as he could be when the man was marching out of the nearest _Raptor_ with a look of absolute death and a little bit of a hangover in his eyes.

"Colonel," Felix nodded the moment he was within earshot and away from some the still roaring engines of the landing _Raptors_. "Its good to see you... even if your six hours late."

"Frakking mix up of orders," the man bleated out with even more curses. "Wouldn't know anything about that would you Lieutenant?"

"Not a thing, sir," he shook his head for affect even if on the inside he was laughing manically. "Lieutenant Moneti is here to escort you and your marines to the final open forum we are having with the workers."

"Lieutenant," he nodded towards the much taller and far more stone faced man.

"Good day, Colonel," Alhex nodded. "I suggest your men remain here for the time being. This cargo bay is isolated from the rest of the station and if the workers see armed marines entering the station we could have a riot on our hands. "

"I'll have them put on standby but I want to be there when you address the workers," Saul growled.

"Of course sir," Felix gestured for him to lead the way. "If you would..."

* * *

"We lost twenty-six people," Kendra reported. "Including Colonel Jurgen."

"Twenty-six!" Helena could barely hide her surprise. "We didn't take that much damage?"

"The two _Raptor_ pilots are counted in among that number," Gina explained, sighing and tossing the manifest on the nearest table, "but a structural support collapsed along frame 34, deck 20... and vented to space."

"We also lost a _Viper_," Kendra added, a bit dejected from the glare from her commanding officer, "pilot Harry Curza."

"1,629 crewmen," Cain sighed. "I started with a crew of close to twice that! How do you explain to the families of 827 officers how they died. What do I tell Jurgen's daughters? They're having their birthday in barely a week... if they're still alive. Can it get any better?"

"No... it's only going to get worse," Gina added, uncrossing herself from the nearby couch to regard the uniformed officers with nothing more then her work coat hanging on her shoulders. "I'm sorry to say it but the bulk of the Cylon fleet is shored up around the Colonies and we're only going to start running against more and more of them as we get closer."

"We need a break and quick," Kendra nodded. "Morale is crashing and even with the material gains for the new _Vipers,_ were going through men and women faster then we can get repair parts."

"I've been trying to graft some Cylon technology onto _Pegasus,_" the blonde shrugged, "but their is only so much we can do with Colonial materials. Reactor output, dradis range, some minor improvements to here and there... yet its just not going to be enough to get us back to the Colonies any better."

"Then do we give up... " Helena could almost not believe the words even as they left her mouth, "settle down and forget about ever getting home to our families. I made a promise to this crew to they would be home soon enough and now I may have to break my word."

The pause held in the air.

They were a long way from home, the losses were wearing them down and soon their wouldn't be enough people left to keep this _Battlestar_ running, even with all its network and automated backups.

_Pegasus_ would soon be a ghost ship flying on fumes sooner then they'd like to think.

"There may be a solution," Shaw finally announced. Withdrawing a few papers from her dossier, she tossed a number of star-charts onto the coffee table. "Gina and I have been trying to build a navigation map for the surrounding space, marking the boundaries of Cylon space. There is a Cylon resupply post here," she pointed to one star among the fields altogether. "It's a minor facility, a few _Raiders_, no _Basestars_, around fifty Centurions."

"It's a research facility, top secret," Gina explained. "Only a few of the top echelons of Cylon kind know what happens there but one of their known forms of research was the same technology that help build the communication array we destroyed. They still hold a database of all the arrays."

"So what?" Kendra muttered. "We're going to blow up another communication satellite. Last time it cost us seventy eight-people taking out one of those things."

"No," Inviere grinned. "But the center does hold the access codes and locations of every array in the network."

"I thought we took the array offline?" Helena asked.

"Temporarily offline," Gina smiled. "A recalibration of the system would take weeks and a serious devotion of power and resources. If we get the access codes-"

"Hack the system as it comes online," Kendra understood, "and jump back to the Colonies in a matter of days instead of weeks."

"Looks like we have a new mission," Helena smirked. "Begin drawing up the battle plan Lieutenant... "

* * *

"I hope you know what you're doing, Felix," Moneti quietly asserted as he cast an eye out at the unruly crowd of assembled dockworkers and tried not to show his outright contempt for them.

But Felix didn't reply, he just squared his shoulders and walked directly onto the platform overlooking the gathering. The moment he appeared the workers went quiet, but that didn't stop the occasional catcall or hiss of disdain as Alhex and Tigh waltzed on behind him.

"Frakking quiet down!" Petto's voice rang out from the front of the crowd, forcing the negative comments to ebb and stop for just a bit. "Let 'em talk."

Felix sighed, trying to get the roiling in his stomach to stop for just a second as Alhex took the speaker's position with a wave of glares from the assembled group.

"Under the direct order of Colonel Tigh," his voice boomed over the crowd, loud and forceful as everyone took a collective breath, waiting for the news to come, "I have been appointed to end this strike by any means necessary. Isn't that correct, Colonel?

"Crystal, Lieutenant," Saul confirmed with an affirming nod.

"And can I assume that this route I take will have the full support of the military and the democratically elected Colonial government?" Alhex again directed the question towards Tigh.

"Undeniably," the man nodded again with a sense of triumph.

"And do I have the full support of the Colonial civilian representative present that my decision will not be met with violence?" he directed his attention towards Symone who was holding position a short distance off to the side.

"No promises," the woman shrugged.

"I now turn the announcement over to the chief negotiator for this strike," Alhex turned his attention back towards the man standing a step behind him. "Lieutenant Gaeta?"

That tightening roiling in his stomach had just become a full out hurricane but still, somehow beyond him, Felix took a step forward as Alhex took a step backwards.

"Under that direction," he announced, his voice now taking the precedence, "I have chosen the most appropriate action. According to the Articles of Colonization, the Second Amendment, paragraph six, if four fifths of a population, not of a military background, vote for secession, they can do so peacefully as long as secession is not to a hostile power or enemy of the state."

"Since _Ragnar Anchorage_ was officially decommissioned years ago," Moneti continued on, "its status reverts to a civilian port when the current population took up residence. As such, they have the right to vote to secede."

"That law was made when one settlement was seceding from one colony to another!" Symone shouted from the crowd. "I already looked it up! How the frak are we going to break from _Caprica_ and side with another Colony whose just as worse off?"

"Who said you secede to another Colony?" Alhex smirked. "According to Article 2301 of the Proclamation of Sentience, the Hegemony may grant a person or group of persons, emergency citizenship to avoid possible harm or retribution by a government they do not agree with."

"Since that law was put into effect when only the Colonies existed and the Cylons were the enemy," Felix explained, "no official wording was put into place to differentiate another Colony from an alien power."

"If we enact that legislation," Moneti now added, "it would declare all dockworkers on _Ragnar Anchorage_ citizenship in-temporary and as such subject to Hegemony laws and protection."

"This law also includes all subordinates and dependents of said citizens," Felix grinned as the announcement was getting a wave of stunned looks from the crowds. "I do believe that by including those numbers, that is over four fifths of the station's population. As per the Articles of Colonization, if majority of a population vote for secession, the Twelve Colonies must recognize such action as a legal and democratic in process."

"You can't do this!" Tigh hissed, his voice cracking at the outrage of being so swiftly undermined.

"We just did," Alhex groused at him. "With Article 2301 enacted a fellow nation must respect the wishes of their citizens and the Hegemony will provide necessary security to ensure their legal rights to choose will not be hindered during the vote. The moment this announcement was made the _Voices of Authority, Value of Secrets, Commonwealth of Tears_ and_ Regimental Hymn_ moved into defensive position around the station and Admiral Vonaka has made a formal request for Colonel Tigh to withdrawal his troops."

"Lieutenant, I order you to stand down or I will have you removed from command!" Saul shouted, taking a dangerous step into Felix's personal space.

"I was already removed from command, Colonel," Felix stated matter of fact. "Lieutenant Moneti was placed in charge of the strike talks. Now Alhex, as I've read from your laws correctly, _Ragnar Anchorage_ is not meeting some of the Hegemony's basic laws."

"Of course," Alhex nodded in affirmation. "According to Proclamation of Sentience 292, hygiene levels among the civilian quarters are below par. As such medical teams are being dispatched and new habitation units will be delivered by the end of the day to off set the over population. Proclamation 630 also states that current ration levels are below standard and will be increased by twenty percent for adults, fifty percent for those under the age of adulthood."

"And Proclamation 850, don't forget," Felix posted for him to remember.

"Of course," Moneti confirmed as he continued. "Dockworkers inside a sector of space that is not considered part of the 'front-line' or on a war footing have a set level of workable hours without proper compensation. As of right now the Hegemony and Cylons have no official declaration of war. As of right now these dockers are working twice what they should be and are subject to back pay. Until more workers can be hired we will deploy drones and personnel to assist and pay all workers immediately."

Cheers were erupting from the workers, waves of happiness and a few broke down in tears at finally being offered some kind of relief.

"Finally Proclamation 507," Alhex shouted over the claps and roar of relief, "no individual can be held accountable for any crimes or injustices, expect murder, they committed before citizenship as they were not considered part of the empire and as such not subject to our laws. By this order, all dockworkers are granted amnesty for striking."

"That's you Petto!" Felix announced to the Chief who was standing cool and collect in the forefront of the crowd.

"You can't do this!" the Colonel roared, veins of anger sparking on his forehead.

"You're right, I couldn't," Felix said. "Until you appoint Alhex. You should never hand someone a loaded gun unless you're sure where they point at your mistake. Now I believe the Space Guard has requested you to vacate their property."

Cheers and laughs of amusement erupted from the workers as the Colonel spun on his heels and stamped off to his waiting ship.

"And my offer Miss Devaux," Alhex turned his attention back towards the Captain, "this deal is dependent on your people working immediately. _Ragnar Anchorage_ has cargo to move."

"You heard the man," she shouted across to Petto.

"Okay, you dockers!" the woman turned towards her teams. "Let's get back to work!"

Applause roared even as they headed back to work, as Symone ascended the platform to join them.

"You know frakking well that you twisted the intent of Tigh's order," the young woman ruefully smiled. "And we won't get away with it."

"It will have to wait," Felix sighed, the adrenaline in his blood starting to dwindle a bit, bringing him down from his emotional high. "We're both gonna get seven hundred kinds of hell over this down the road. But in the mean time lets enjoy the good fortune."

A nod, a handshake and the captain disappeared into the crowds, most likely back to her command that probably wouldn't last very long as the Hegemony took over operations of the station.

Seeing her go caused on thing to surge in Felix's face he hadn't expected... a yawn.

"No offense Lieutenant," Alhex commented, "but er... you look like I feel. Why don't you get some sleep?"

"That's exactly what I have in mind..."

* * *

He awoke with a headache that had pounded for the third day now, a terrible pain that screamed in all his joints and stung in the bruises that littered his face. But even with the terrible pain that soared through his body he knew he wasn't alone.

"What do you want?" his voice was rough, harsh, like sand paper over glass to his throat.

"I came to see if you were alright," the body slipped out of the shadows, slowly walking towards the clear, break-proof glass that separated them.

"I was doing fine here, Six," he looked up at the angelic face looking down at him in concern. "Thanks for exposing me by the way."

"You weren't doing fine, thank goodness," she sighed, arms crossed, staring down at him. "If you'd destroyed this ship, you'd have made us even more irredeemable in the eyes of God. And the names Gina."

"No," One shook his head. "I'd have proved us to be superior in his plan."

Gina snorted, as if it was the funniest, most outrageous thing she'd ever heard.

"You know I think I've figured out where it went wrong," she grinned at him, though her eyes betrayed that she was really afraid of him.

"Well, that's a very useful revelation to have when you're spare punishment for frakking the Admiral," One smiled up at her. "Nonetheless.. our failure is obvious. We had our foot on the throat of humanity and we failed to step down hard enough. That was our error."

"Have you learned nothing in all this time in this cell?" Gina slammed a fist into the glass, outraged at him. "Being beaten within an inch of your life to know what you did to deserve such? Because I learned a great deal among this crew in such a short amount of time. Killing the humans was a grievous error. Do you want to know why?"

"I really don't," the broken man carped.

"Are you certain?" she grinned at him. "Because it's absolutely fascinating."

"Listen, sister," his eyes locked onto her with an intense hatred, "if you're right, that means this whole project was doomed from the beginning."

"Yes," Gina nodded. "From the very top to the bits at the bottom. In evolving to the organic flesh we evolved something that was inevitable. We developed emotions, feelings, we started to love."

"Those were merely to facilitate our infiltration," One glared at her and her theories.

"Then why are you showing anger and I'm showing concern?" she noted, much to his carnage. "We are both active personalities, we shouldn't have these feelings, we shouldn't be able to react, to cry, to love. Our Centurion forefather's didn't act like that, the only other creature that acts like we do... are humans."

"If you believe that then you should be boxed because you've obviously been corrupted by them!" One grieved at her, as if she was some unfortunate soul to be pitied.

"God loves all," Gina repeated the hymn at him.

"There is no God," he laughed at the sheer idea. "Supernatural divinities are the primitive's answer for why the sun goes down at night... At least that's what we One's have been trying to tell the other for years. When we finally acted like we embraced it you stupid ninny's were hanging on our every word. Worked wonders to get what we wanted."

"You can't really prove it one way or the other, of course," Gina smugly snickered. "God is about faith, something the One's have lacked in everything but themselves."

"Something you also lacked in this crew," both them whipped their heads around to find Helena standing in the doorway, overlooking their entire exchange with a fire in her eyes.

"Ah Admiral," One laughed, a gurgling bloody sound. "I was wondering when I'd get to see you again. Missing me in the CIC already?

"You'll be lucky to leave that cell alive," she hissed.

"I meant no harm," he stared at Helena with a dark grin.

"No harm?" Helena's voice was menacing, threatening, as she took a dangerous step forward. "You tried to completely annihilated our race and destroyed our civilization."

One laughed a bit, enjoying this entire display of aggression and power.

"Now," the man snickered at her, "if you're gonna start pointing fingers... you see, we're not like you. We are logical and can admit our mistakes. We're not afraid of death and we accept that our superiority over you is a give."

"Shut it," GIna snapped at the both of them. "Helena, over here."

She snagged a hand around the other woman's arm and dragged her off, away into one of the far corners so that One couldn't hear what they had to say.

"What is it?" Cain mumbled, her attention divided.

"We have to kill him," she answered quick and quietly.

"What?" Helena was agape at her.

"I will tell you everything I can," Gina proposed in a speedy fashion, casting an eye over at the One to make sure he wasn't hearing what they said. "But him... he's bile... poison. He'll feed you lies if it means he'll live long enough to get you all killed."

"If we send him back he'll tell them where we are," Helena protested. "Not counting he is a former member of my senior staff. He knows too much about this ship."

"Not if he doesn't resurrect," Gina wheezed.

"But you said we've been in-range of one of your _Resurrection Ships_ since we arrived out here," Helena wondered. "What could we do to prevent a download?"

"Not if we space him... and jump at the same time," Gina proposed in a hush. "His atoms will be vaporized and his signal scattered in a thousand possible directions."

"Are you sure?" Cain didn't seem too convinced by her tone.

"We had a jump accident on a _Basestar_ a few years ago," she described, "half the ship arrived at the destination, the other half stayed where it was suppose to... everyone in the section directly along the jump flash never resurrected. Best we could theorize is that when their bodies were trapped in the folding of space and time they were scattered too much for a Resurrection Ship to get a feed on them."

"Then if we pull this off he'll be dead for good?" her voice was filled with concern at the possibility they'd final be rid of him.

"Final death," Gina nodded.

Crossing over to the door, Helena unsnapped the wall phone, dialed a quick series of buttons and waited for the response on the other end.

"CIC," a voice answered.

"Shaw," Helena nodded, back into command mode. "I need a marine detail to the brig and a secure route an empty launch tube. Clear the path, lock all doors and post guards at all intersections."

"Yes, Admiral," the young woman confirmed, confusion high in her features. "What is going on?"

"We are executing the Fisk impostor," she expounded, a sharp intake of breath confirmed that Kendra has realized the possible implications. "Get it done."

She snapped the device back to the wall and waited, even as Gina now stepped towards the glass to regard the man they were about to murder.

"I managed to convince them to let you die..." she spoke in a hushed tone, her eyes downcast a bit, "to resurrect and carry a message back to High Command."

"And what message is that?" One vindicated.

"Leave us alone," Helena spoke up from the other end of the room, "we will not harm you as long as you won't block our return to the Colonies."

"Done," he stated after only the brief pause, though his answer in no way hid the fact they both knew he was lying to save his own skin.

The soldiers arrived, five men armed to the teeth, handing over a rifle to Helena to carry as well, with Kendra in tow with full combat armor and ready for anything.

"We're ready," she stated and the march began.

Two marines before One, three behind, the Admiral, Shaw and Inviere bringing up the rear, each keeping their eyes open for anything.

Thankfully Shaw had done her job, sliding through the ship with ease before entering an entirely deserted flight deck, not a soul in sight and blast doors sectioning off their area from prying eyes.

A single launch tube hung open, the airlock closed and awaiting release.

"Is there really a _Resurrection Ship_ in range?" One asked just as they came to a stop.

"Yes, brother," Gina nodded at him. "But first, you're gonna die in a vacuum."

"Never gone that way before," for a second he looked afraid, wide eyes staring at the sealed airlock.

"That's a 170-foot launch tube in front of you," she tilted her head towards the waiting opening. "You might get lucky, hit something and die of injuries before we get to the vacuum."

"I don't like you," he mumbled under his breath.

"I appreciate that," she grinned at him. "Means I'm important enough to annoy you"

"Do you really believe it was a mistake to attack the humans?" One spit, as if the idea was laughable.

"Intensely," she confirmed.

"You know that when I download among the others, your strange ideas will be shouted down," he stated matter of fact. "We can not co-exist with humans... ever."

"Ideas only seem strange until you try them on, brother," she smiled at him knowingly. "We had a temper tantrum in the form of a cataclysm because we wanted God to treasure us more than humanity."

"We didn't want to be loved," he simpered. "We wanted to be treated like we deserved."

"We wanted to be held to a bosom," she reprimanded him like a child out of line, "to be petted and perfumed and told we were the prize of the universe."

"Yes, well," One said, "if the humans were gone-"

"We'd soon learn to hate our-self and would mourn them," she criticized him right back.

"I am going to see to it that you get boxed," One enjoyed one last moment of self indulgence. "They'll turn on you soon enough and when they kill you you'll resurrect asking for forgiveness which you won't receive. And then I'm going to prepare to wipe out humanity once and for all."

"The anticipation is really that unpleasant?" she arched an eyebrow at him.

"Yes," Helena shot him a look as the lights above the airlock began to flicker from red to green. "But it will only hurt for a little bit until your blood boils. And I'd breath out real fast because the pressure change will cause your lungs to explode."

The look of disgust on One's face wasn't lost on them and ignited a secret enjoyment in the humans and a sickening drop in Gina's stomach.

"We're ready," Kendra declared from the flight launch booth that overlooked the airlock's interior.

With that the man was marched into the waiting tube, the marines held their rifles at ready just long enough for the doors to slam shut and the light to flicker back to red.

"Begin count down," the Admiral announced.

"Five... four... three..." inside the tube One heard nothing, just say the humans staring at him from the launch booth as he wondered what he would do after putting this horrific death behind him... a moment before the distant outer door separated and the rush of atmosphere took hold of him.

The entire tube seemed to rush past at lightning speed, everything flying past as the cold hold of space started to creep into his lungs and the weightlessness overtook him... a second before a blinding white flash seemed to burn every fiber in his body and it all faded to black.

"Jump complete," Kendra confirmed a second later as the ship returned to normal space.

"Then he's finally dead..."

* * *

The _Astral Queen_ slide into the open slip, docking clamps securing her in place as fuel tubes quickly and automatically attached themselves to the vessels sides. A few clamps and tubes however found no purchase as several notable and blackened chunks of the craft were missing.

"Alright kids," Tom snatched up a little boy and bounced him on his hip as the rest of the tiny bundles huddled in. "Stay close and don't touch anything you're not suppose to."

All smiles and hopped up on whatever sugary bits Zarek and Sim'Lohan had pulled out of the mess hall, they followed after him closely, unwilling to put any distance between themselves and the adults who had saved them.

Meier's watched the go and though he was happy to be rid of them he found it hard to see them go, off to take homes abroad _Gamoray_ before they could be found families either here or back on the Colonies.

An approaching hum caught his attention and turning he found Sim'Lohan pushing Jusi'Lada passed on some kind of hover table, obviously the Hegemony's version of a gurney.

The moment the newly helmeted head turned to notice them, Jusi'Lada singled her commanding officer to give them a moment.

"How are you feeling?" James asked as he approached the lying woman.

"I have a splitting headache, my nose is running and I need an all new pair of kidneys," she quickly rattled off with the sound of a grin in her words, "but so far so good."

"You've gave us a real scare," Meier admonished her.

"Us or you?" the young woman tilted her faceplate at him.

"I didn't say-"

"I'll be in sickbay for at least a week before my new kidney's are cloned," she cut off his protest. "I expect you to visit."

"Count on it..."

* * *

She was surprised to find her sitting on her couch when the door slide back, hands crossed, as if the room was far too cold.

"How you doing?" it was the simplest, most general question she could think of for the moment.

"Better," Gina shrugged, though her answer wasn't too real. "Thanks for saying all that stuff."

"So want to get-"

"This isn't working," her words were quick, cutting Helena off before she even could change the subject.

"What do you mean?" Helena knew where this was leading but for some reason ignorance offered her some comfort.

"Come on, Helena," Gina sighed, vaulting up to stalk the room even as her voice became more strained, "we can't honestly make this work."

"Yes we can!" Cain was quick to defend their relationship.

"Be honest," she looked at her hard, eyes boring into her with such intensity.

"Maybe not," she sighed after a beat, feeling her insides deflating under all the stress.

Gina marched the edges of the room, becoming increasingly agitated, tears welling up in her eyes and hands fidgeting.

"You know," she whispered finally, still walking the edges of the ready room. "I love having someone who stands up for me. I just hate that what I am is what causes it."

"Gina..." Helena tried to make her voice strong but it came as a weak croak. "Are you alright?"

"I just need a little time to figure some stuff out," she mumbled, as if not believing herself but still forcing herself to speak those words. "Maybe we take a... take a break?"

"I don't wanna break up," Helena's words were forceful but deflated.

"Not break up," Gina rationalized the facts, though she barely believed them herself. "No, just take a... take a break. I mean, everybody says that, but we... we really... mean it."

"Be honest," Helena looked up at Gina.

All she got was a tear filled face that quickly turned away and marched out, the door closing behind her .

Helena didn't know how long she had been sitting on the couch, could have been hours, could have been days. All that kept her company was the hum of the overhead lights and the sounds of the ship beyond her.

It took a beep from the door to single that her attention was required elsewhere. Slowly she rose but it felt like she was carrying two ton weights on her feet. It required energy and a fair bit of cannon fodder to press herself up to stand, even more so to move to the door.

"Admiral," Kendra nodded as the door slide back, revealing the young woman clutching a data-pad to her chest. "I was looking for Specialist Inviere. Do you know where she is?"

"I think we just broke up..."

* * *

Day and night on _Tripoint_ was an iffy concept, the colony ship was designed to operate in the void between galaxies, where even the closest stars were sparse and faint dots, the overhead dome was designed to simulate everything from dusk to high noon, with the same blazing sun hanging in the sky.

But now in _Caprica_ orbit they had a sun overhead all the time, meaning that day's were longer and nights seemed all the darker. The city still glowed brilliant even during the day, an image that Laura enjoyed immensely from her office overlooking the settlements.

"Madam President," she turned as Billy stepped through the large oak doors of the office. "He's here."

"Thank you, Billy," Laura's back straightened, her attention focused and a night without sleep suddenly faded from her mind. "See him in."

The man stepped aside, holding his vigilant position on the far-side of the door way as he stared intently at the man that stepped through before finally closing the door behind him.

Royal King Bartolome Kumara was not a tall man, nor a short man. If she was in a crowded room Laura would have called him the last person to stand out to her. If it weren't for his long nose and black as ebony hair, she would have completely overlooked him.

"Ms. Roslin," Kumara offered a bow, the royal robes of deep aqua seeming to flow with his every movement. "It is so good to meet with you finally, Laura."

"Same to you," she offered a nod, not really a bow, but she wasn't going to let him get off referring to her by every name yet not her position as Commander and Chief.

Bartolome however never glanced at her, instead his attention differed to the window and the clustering of skyscrapers below.

"It just goes by so fast," he sighed, nearly hanging out the window to get a better view. "It seems just like yesterday that I was a mere Duke, eighteenth in line for the thrown and you were nothing more then the Secretary of Education. Now look at us, leaders of state, shaper's of politics."

"I think the forty or so people that died in front of me would resent that is how I ascended to the presidency?" Laura didn't like this man's nostalgic tone he was carrying.

"You know what I resent," Bartolome turned on her, as if suddenly daring her to answer his question. "I resent that I haven't had time to mourn my good friend James and civilization just keeps moving on regardless. They told me that he asked you to step down and I think you should."

"I'm sure that you do," Laura gripped the arm rest of her chair behind her desk, trying to pry her finger nails from the fine leather.

"You know I am not telling you to do it out of respect for his wishes and certainly not for anything I might want from it. The Colonies are in turmoil, Laura, it could any which way. This is not the time for social advances, new policies and especially changes to the office of the president."

"Meaning a woman in the Presiden't office?" Laura couldn't help but smirk at his possible implication. "We'll have to worry about that once a month thing, will she or won't she press the button?"

"Couple of years you won't have to wait about that anymore," Kumara laughed, though he missed the look of disdain on Laura. "You know your position was never meant to be a Presidency. I mean the appointment was done as a stunt! It was as pure theater. You were pretty, a real teacher, you got Adar's polls with women to skyrocket. That same material helped you when you became president... but now should get off the stage while the audience still loves you and your position was a whole lot of nothing. When they get a look at that go away mission they sent you on... for what's its name... the bleeding heart teacher's thing.

"The Caprica Teacher's Union," she supplied to him, allowing him to continue this whole rant for his own amusement.

"It was suppose to be another piece of theater," Bartolome shrugged at the idea, "but then you up and went to Stans and asked for a compromise. We were going to look silly and ineffectual because your never going to be save everyone and we're going to lose face. And for whom? A bunch of frakking stupid teachers who should just take their government checks and teach their damn students what we tell them to teach them."

He turned around at her, a smile on his lips, a gleam in his eyes... that is until he noticed the scowl on Roslin's lips.

"King Kumara," her voice was low, like a growl from an animal ready to strike. "Vice President Leipziger asked me to resign and I was prepared too do so, both for his legitimate positions and the wishes of Richard Adar. But he is dead now... a lot of people are dead now. So I am going to go out there and I am going to lead these Colonies. I am going to run this government and if some people can't tolerate that, then I promise you it will be more their problem then mine!"

"Why?" Kumara hissed. "Why do you want to be President?"

"For the same reason Richard Adar did," Laura locked eyes with him, unwilling to waiver, "because I believe the people should have a President-"

"No!" he cut her off, slamming a fist down on her desk with surprising force. "In this room, where's it just you and me, just the two of us, the answer you should be giving me is you want to be President because you want the power, you want the power to control all of humanity."

"That's not me," Laura defended herself in honesty.

"Well that's the problem," Bartolome threw his hands in the air, almost unbelieving he was hearing this. "That's what I am telling you. People who don't want have no idea what to do with it. They have no idea how to use it when they have it."

For a moment there was quiet, a reigning silence as they locked glares with each other and refused to back down.

"King Kumara," Laura's voice started off low and slowly rose in volume, "tomorrow I will be making the formal declaration for the first formation of the new Quorum. I expect to have your nominations for the _Virgon_ delegation directly after that."

"Ms. Roslin," Kumara puffed out his chest, trying to make himself seem larger then life, "I think-"

"President Roslin," she corrected him with a tight lipped smile. "Now I am very busy Mr. Kumara, so if you'll excuse me."

He huffed, as if she had made the gravest offense possible, before turning his fine robes and marching through the open doors of her office. In his wake Billy stuck his head in, trying to gauge what had happened.

"Billy," she asked, "where is that resignation speech I asked you to write?

"I have it on my desk," the young man answered.

"Good," Laura nodded, "burn it and bury the ashes..."

* * *

She crunched along the gravel, taking particular note to keep the dirty from sullying her red-rimmed dress.

"We've searched every valley, every cave..." Six stated, shielding her eyes in the searing sunlight. "They slipped through somehow."

"She thinks she loves him, that she can't live without him," Five grumbled from the outcropping he stood on, overlooking the two dozen Centurions they had moving across the area in search pairs. "Her passion is making her more resourceful."

"It bothers you, doesn't it?" Six grinned at the idea.

"We'll get them in the end," he shrugged at her.

"No," she shook her head, "it bothers you that you've never experienced it."

"You saw the way Helo was when we took her away?" Five shot her a look. "He was pathetic."

"I can't help wondering what it would be like to feel that intensely," Six grinned. "Even in his anguish, he seemed... so alive..."


End file.
